


Feels Like I'm Walking On Holy Water

by thatgaywizard



Series: Wingrove/Harchester [4]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016), Supernatural
Genre: 1985, 80s Music, Anal Sex, BILLY LIVES so that's the whole point, Bad Boys, Bad motels, Billy is rude af but then way too fragile, Billy's mullet is like it's own character at this point tbh, Classic Cars, Dean with 80s clothes and hair, Drinking, False Declarations of ‘No Homo’, First Times, I don't do sad endings, I live for sexual tension, I'm not built for tragedy, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Tension, Shit Talk, Young Dean Winchester, billy lives, cropped close at the sides and a little longer on top and in the back, dean being soft but just for billy, dean's got that hair cut, double denim dick down, flayed billy, homophobic language as flirting, pool shark dean, pool table inuendo, supernatural season one but set in the 80s, tight jeans and slutty tank tops, vintage, you know the one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24278683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgaywizard/pseuds/thatgaywizard
Summary: The year is 1985 and what Dean expected to be a predictable demon hunt turns out to be a lot more complicated when he and Sam are instructed by their father to help out his old friend Jim Hopper. During his trip to Indiana Dean comes across a beautiful chaotic young man and the chemistry between them is off the charts, it seems almost too good to be true, but fate has something cruel in store for both of them as the demonic presence of the Upside Down starts to engulf the town of Hawkins and his newfound squeeze Billy Hargrove along with it. It turns out there's some things Dean isn't willing to sacrifice for the greater good...
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Dean Winchester, Harchester, Wingrove - Relationship
Series: Wingrove/Harchester [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651864
Comments: 23
Kudos: 37





	1. Beginner's Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [socknonny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/socknonny/gifts).



> Continuing to work my way slowly to the completion of this fic. Updates will probably be sporadic right now but determined lol
> 
> (Also this is dedicated to you Socknonny - more like I BLAME you because I wouldn't be down this outrageous path if not for that one fateful conversation.)

Dean hadn’t come to the bar looking for a hookup, only a drink. If the universe wanted him to get laid that wasn’t really his fault. 

Predictably enough Sam had gone to the library as soon as they had breached the edge of Hawkins Indiana and checked into the Motel 6 they found far back off the highway. After driving for half the day cramped up in the Impala the last thing Dean wanted to do was sit around some more in a dusty library. They agreed to meet back at the motel later and Dean had endured a butt load of eye rolling from his brother before he finally escaped to get well and truly soused. 

The closest bar to their lodgings was your standard Midwest dive. It appealed to his baser instincts, no pretense here, just good old solid drinking and pool. It was a sparse laid back crowd on an early Tuesday evening. Dean was in jeans with a matching jacket over a tight black tank top, casual enough to almost blend in.

The establishment was a predictable sausage fest, and not exactly in the best way. In fact, he doubted there was even enough liqour in here to make these men more attractive. Only one woman had made her way into the bar and Dean almost felt bad for her, by the time he had received his second drink she’d been hit on by every guy in the joint sober enough to see her and he was weighing whether he should try his own luck with her by playing the hero and telling the other guy to fuck off, or simply leave it alone. The scales were stacked very heavily against that first notion. He was watching her humor the guy next to the pool table off to the right as Bruce Springsteen played over the jukebox.

“Not happening buddy,” he muttered under his breath and turned back around at the sound of someone carelessly dragging a stool out and sitting down one seat away from him. It was with great surprise that he found himself looking at a vision of Farrah Fawcett level proportions, well, as far as hair was concerned. He hadn’t seen this newcomer walk in and they certainly didn't match the decor. Maybe this place wasn't simply a sinkhole for professional alcoholics and vagrants afterall. He opened his mouth to release a smooth: _“How you doing?”_ but managed to swallow it as the stranger’s head turned and Dean realized it was no Farrah Fawcett he was looking at. He was staring at a young man with an exceptionally coiffed mullet who began to work his way out of his motorcycle jacket to reveal smooth tan arms, after which he laid the jacket on the bar with a little more force than necessary and took out his cigarettes. This hair metal shit was gonna be the end of Dean; androgyny was in, but at whose expense?

“You know I ain’t gonna be able to do this next year?” The bartender was telling the young man.

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” the guy said.

That was right, good old President Reagan had signed the National Minimum Drinking Age Act and now every kid who had just hit eighteen was gonna riot after realizing they had to wait another three years to buy booze. Lucky for Dean he was over that line, not that he had ever bothered to abide by it. 

He realized he might have been a little drunker than he thought when his brain didn’t stop him from releasing his next statement into the air. “That’s some hair, man. Thought you were a woman for a second.” He chuckled as he lifted his glass to his lips.

The young man shot him a hostile look, as if noticing for the first time that Dean was there, and then immediately that he didn’t like him. “Bet you’d like wouldn’t you?” It was said without inflection, but still venomous. His tongue peaked out between his lips as he touched a cigarette to it and then closed his lips around it.

“Uh,” Dean said, “I mean...” he let himself look a little harder at this hot-blooded new distraction. He wasn’t hard on the eyes, that was for sure. 

The bartender eyed them both suspiciously as he stood there. “Ya’ll better not be thinking about causing trouble in here.” He was a tall middle-aged man who was clearly done dealing with anyone’s crap, the sort of person Dean had automatic respect for. 

“You’ll get no trouble from me, sir.”

The new guy didn’t seem to be keen on treading on the good graces of the man serving his alcohol either and stayed quiet. 

As if the universe had decided with that to change the mood, a soft John Wait song flicked over on the jukebox and began to play. Dean heard the young man beside him sigh with contempt, as all the sad people in the bar immediately got depression when the lyrics “I ain’t missing you at all,” drifted across the small space.

The bartender came back and set a glass down. “Here you go, Billy.”

Dean saw him take a close look at the young man, _Billy_ , and then ask, “Rough night?”

“You could say that.” The kid downed the drink in one go and asked for another wordlessly by making a come here gesture with his hand. The bartender shook his head but served him another. It was a clear shot, probably vodka or tequila. Dean didn’t know what the exchange was about but the mild amount of alcohol he had consumed made it inconsequential. He had a hard time turning off his hunting brain sometimes, that part that constantly kept tabs running in the back of his head on weird details and tried to come up with a reason for everything that didn’t have an immediate explanation. He was thinking he might wander to the pool table and focus on something else. 

“Not from around here are you?” He heard his neighbor ask. 

Dean wasn't sure why this guy was suddenly striking up a conversation after having just insulted him. Dean sized him up: pretty boy, damn pretty actually, Dean admitted, but _gritty_ pretty. He was gonna have to play it real cool. This kid seemed to be wound tight as all hell, like he was waiting for a reason to lay into someone, or maybe he was just a lot of talk, at any rate Dean figured he could take him if he met him in the parking lot and that made him confident enough to not worry too much about pissing him off. On the side nearest Dean Billy wore a long earring. Dean could smell his cologne even from a seat away, some Calvin Klein’s Obsession or whatever was popular right now from the drug store probably. His flashy young glam punk look was out of place in a small dusty republican town like this. 

Billy gave Dean a sweep with his eyes that flicked a little too low and rested a little too heavy and he took a drink, his eyes never leaving Dean as he did it. Those eyes were solid dark blue in the poor lighting of the bar, thick lidded, long dark lashes. Too pretty. Dean wasn’t sure where this dirty blonde boy with blue eyes and blue jeans had even come from or why he was so angry... but he did know one thing for sure. This guy was in the closet, _way_ back in that fucking thing. No doubt about it. 

“I’m just passing through,” Dean said. “You local?” 

“Nope.” Billy looked away. 

Dean didn’t know what the response to that should be so he gave none. He could have just ended the conversation there but he wasn’t done drinking and it was a little boring in the bar. “Hey, could we use the pool table?” he asked the bartender.

“It’s all yours,” the bartender said. “Balls are already on the table.” 

There was a joke to be made there but Dean restrained himself. “You wanna play some pool?” 

Billy raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“I mean, there’s like, no one else in here so,” Dean held up his hands in a noncommittal gesture.

“I’m not here to fucking push balls around, man. I'm here to drink.”

Dean's reasons for coming here also hadn't had anything to do with balls, just drinking, but... it was fine. If Billy didn't want to play too bad but whatever, he was a wild card anyway. A very good looking wild card... Dean figured the guy by the old brown jukebox would be game, so he walked away.

He herded all the stray balls into one area, scooping them back and fitting them into the triangular rack. He leaned over the table to slide them into place, and wondered if Billy was checking out his ass. Yeah he was a little narcissistic- and ok not _everyone_ was lusting over him all the time but people also didn’t turn him down very often either, and really he was curious if he’ had been right about Billy. He would have bet money on it probably. While he was pushing the sleeves of his jean jacket up to his elbows and powdering the tip of the cue he heard a bar stool scuff the floor and a moment later Billy was standing at the side of the table. Dean tried not to smirk. “Changed your mind?”

“Changed my mind,” Billy drawled, acting like it was a chore to even make the effort, like Dean had asked him for a favor to which he’d _begrudgingly_ complied. 

Now that Billy was facing him Dean finally saw the bruise on the side of his face he hadn’t been privy to before. So that’s what the bartender was talking about. It was a bright red color high on his right cheekbone with just a little decorating the arch of his brow as well. It looked fresh, no purple or green yet, just puffy and raw. Dean considered not pointing it out but it wasn’t like the guy was hiding it. “Quite a shiner you got there.”

Billy grabbed one of the pool sticks off the wall. “Yeah. We gonna play or you wanna compliment my face some more?”

“I could do both at the same time, trust me.” Dean said, testing the water.

Billy acted like he hadn’t heard Dean, and examined the stick in his hands. He was wearing a white tank top that didn’t hide much, it was tucked into his jeans, and there was a tattoo of a cigarette smoking skull on his shoulder. It was a little corny, Dean thought, but he seemed committed to the look and Dean respected that. “Solids or stripes?” He asked as he readied himself.

“Lady's choice,” Billy said.

It was gonna be like that. _Alright_ , _have it your way,_ Dean thought. “Well, since you’re gonna be such a gentleman, I’ll take stripes.” Dean was good at pool. He was _very_ good at pool. When it came to the school of hard knocks this had certainly been a prerequisite which Dean had aced. Billy looked a bit younger than Dean and Dean suspected he had probably never needed to hustled pool to get by.

The small earring in Dean’s right earlobe glittered as he leaned across the green felt to take his shot. The balls broke loudly and clacked together like ice cubes in a glass.

Billy clutched his cue stick a little tighter as he watched. “What’d you say your name was?” 

Dean actually came around the side of the table Billy was on, sliding his ass against its smooth wood edge as he leaned back against the table to offer Billy a handshake- “Dean" -a very firm handshake that Billy met with equal force. “Nice to meet you.” Billy didn’t offer him the same platitude in return. Dean tried not to let his fingers linger on the inside of Billy’s palm, he had attractive hands, not overly feminine but slender enough to be what someone might call graceful. Not the kind of hands Dean ran into in bars for sure, regardless of that they still had a strong square knuckled shape and felt a little callused- if Dean had to guess- from lifting weights. Although Dean was a few inches taller than him and just a little bigger, Billy was cut like he worked out on the regular. 

They didn’t talk much as the first round went by. Dean played casual, didn’t try too hard. Billy played a little sloppy but he had a strong shot and after he had a few lucky turns Dean decided he needed to step up his game. He had intended to go easy on him, not _lose_. Dean lined the stick up against his body and concentrated on the spread in front of him, made sure his next move took out three balls in a nice clean stroke and that the shot after that one cleared the table for him. He stole a glance at Billy who’s cocky expression had dropped off as he saw Dean’s winning stroke and his nice thick eyebrows went up. He gave a short laugh, acting like he didn’t care. Dean saw him run his tongue across the sharp line of his upper teeth as he leaned back on the table and then looked over.

“You wouldn’t be holding out on me would ya, Dean?” His smile was unfriendly. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dean said. “Another round?”

Billy looked huffy and silent, but he started pulling the balls out of drop chute and putting them back on the table. 

Dean noticed they were attracting some attention. The lone woman in the bar was stealing glances in his direction, and he might have felt pleased about it, but he already had an idea about who he was really trying to show off for here and it wasn’t her. 

“So, you’re not from here. What the hell are you doing here?” Billy asked and then he leaned over to break the reset.

“Family stuff.” 

The balls scattered loudly across the green and Billy swore as one of Dean’s assigned balls rolled into a pocket. “Fuck, are you kidding me...” He had thrown his jacket on a nearby table and he laid the stick down on it too as he dug out a packet of Marlboros. 

Dean took his shot, made two balls in and then waited for Billy- but Billy was suddenly being apprehended by the woman who’d been undressing Dean from across the room, and she had a friend in tow with her now. They were far from subtle. She kept looking over at Dean and grinning like a Cheshire cat. They must have been twice Billy’s age and at least ten or fifteen years older than Dean. They weren’t _unattractive_ by most people’s standards, but they were a little much, even for him. Both wore various shades of heavy red lipstick paired with fried hair teased to all hell. He felt a little guilty thinking it but the term _bar fly_ flitted across his mind as soon as he heard them start talking. 

“Hey honey, can I get a smoke?” The first woman asked Billy. She was in tight black pants with a big faux leather jacket that had huge shoulder pads and tassels. 

“This is my last one,” he told her. Dean knew it was a lie. He’d seen the pack and it had been mostly full. Dean had already surmised Billy wasn’t the generous type.

The woman pouted but didn’t dwell on it for more than a second before she was asking what Billy’s name was. He sighed heavily and didn’t even answer her. “Did you finish?” he asked Dean.

“All yours,” Dean told him. 

Billy stretched across the table, the contours of his smooth tan arms showcased by the over head light in the dark smoky room. And he made a beautiful shot, real smooth. _Beginner's luck._

Dean could see Billy wasn’t the type to play it cool, he gave Dean a predatory grin, his tongue poking out between his teeth in a way that made Dean forget he was supposed to make the next move for a few seconds once Billy had run out of turns.

Their heavily perfumed and very drunk audience hung out in the chairs close by watching them and talking to each other in not very secretive whispers about Billy’s ass and Dean’s biceps. Dean was used to casing a room and generally being aware of what was going on, so he also noticed the few men hanging about looking over too, their attention drawn by the women now like flashlights in the dark. Dean hadn’t actually noticed how aware of Billy’s cologne he’d been until it was masked by the new smell of perfume.

The woman who had asked for a cigarette was still attempting to make conversation with Billy who was closest to where she sat. He looked at her in a flat empty way like she bored him to death even while he spoke to her. If Dean thought Billy had been rude to _him_ he now realized maybe it had actually been Billy’s good side he had been viewing this whole time.

Something changed soon after that. Something between them… shifted. At first Billy was just preening, blustering, maybe because he’d close to bottomed out on his third drink and the alcohol had loosened up that attitude of his, shifting him from defensive and shitty, to cocky and shitty. He put his shoulders back and stood up taller, tipping his head back all the way when he blew out the plume of smoke from his cigarette. Dean thought the extravagance was for the women, or he would have- the insinuation was certainly there- but Billy never looked once in their direction. If anything his focus on Dean became even more intense. When Dean went down to take his shot Billy pulled up the hem of his shirt in the most unnecessary way to wipe his chin after draining his glass one final time, giving Dean a _wide_ view of his very smooth tone abdomen- and Dean didn’t scratch, but it was pretty damn close. The white ball went wide and completely missed the intended target. 

“Oof. Too bad,” Billy said in a lazy voice. 

Dean had been an idiot to show any sign of weakness, from then on Billy played _dirty_. Every time Dean was about to make his move he leaned over a little _too_ far, let his mouth hang open with the cigarette barely on his lip, showing off his tongue, letting the cue stick slide through his hand obscenely as he pressed it against the crotch of his tight jeans. The worst part was when he came around and stood next to Dean as Dean tried to focus. He was too close for Dean to see, just behind him over his shoulder, and he could feel him standing there near enough to stretch out an arm and touch. _But_ Dean was still good at pool. He held his own. Billy had just leveled the playing field that was all.

“I think I’m gonna grab another drink,” Dean said as he straightened up to find Billy standing only a foot or two away with his arms crossed watching Dean intently. Dean could smell his scent again. Billy didn’t say anything as Dean brushed past him and headed to the bar. Not a moment later the first woman who had been in there showed up at his elbow as he was leaning on the counter. 

“Buy me a drink?” She suggested, not even bothering to be coy about it. Dean wondered how she could be thirsty after having been talked to by all the men in here.

“Sorry,” he told her, “but I’m not planning on sticking around much longer. I got an early day tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on. It’s still early!” 

He paid his tab- and Billy’s without mentioning it- and picked up his drink from the counter. He gave the woman an apologetic half smile as he walked away. He was halfway back to the pool table when she slurred spitefully at him- 

“Uhg, what are you _gay_ or something?” 

His gaze snapped to Billy at the same time Billy’s eyes zeroed in on his, the line between them went taught with raw tension. He also felt the gaze of at least four conservative middle aged men lingering on him as well thanks to the outburst. He ignored all of it. Except Billy. If they wanted to give him trouble he was ready but he didn’t think they would.

Billy ducked his head and picked up his jacket. “Gonna go smoke,” he said around a fresh cigarette, as if he hadn’t already been doing that. He made his way to the door. Dean made a pretense of rearranging the pool table before pushing through the smoky atmosphere of the bar to walk outside.

Billy wasn’t alone when Dean got out there and he found himself disappointed by this. An older man was sitting in a plastic chair smoking a cigarette and talking to Billy, or _at_ Billy. He was dressed like a tradesman in an old flannel jacket and he looked like he could have been an electrician or a construction worker, probably retired, or maybe nothing even that successful. He also looked like the sort of person who visited the bar after work religiously. 

“You’re related to Hargrove, right? Aren’t you Neil’s boy?”

Billy was staring straight ahead with a vacant expression not looking at the man. “Don’t know him,” he said in that bored drawl.

Dean didn’t smoke but he decided for the moment maybe he did…

Billy looked up at him as he got close and held out the pack of Marlboros without saying anything. Dean took one and moved over to the opposite side of Billy that the older man was on. It allowed Billy to turn his back to the interloper completely to light Dean’s cigarette, looking straight into Dean’s face as he flicked the silver lighter in a practiced gesture.

The metallic sound of it disconnected Dean for a second. Disorienting. The sound meant something else to him, something it wouldn’t mean to Billy- meant _salt_ and _arson-_ never meant _this._ Never something simple like this. But this was dangerous too, this had his blood racing through his veins even though there was no present threat.

Given the way he looked at Dean, Billy might not have been completely unfamiliar with his own type of salting and burning. He didn’t smile, didn’t say anything. The flame came to life on the first try and Dean held his stare as he leaned in, magnetized, seeing the reflection of the flame dancing there in Billy's eyes like a white snake in the dying evening light. He wasn't afforded the courtesy of having the lighter outstretched to him. Billy made Dean come to him, made him come within a few inches of his face watching him the whole time with that heated gaze as Dean sucked on the cigarette to get it going. From this range Billy would see the pale freckles that decorated the bridge of Dean’s nose and high cheekbones. Dean looked up through his lashes at him until Billy clicked the lighter shut slowly and turned away. 

The old man was still looking at Billy when he turned back. His presence like an annoying tune that wouldn’t stop playing. Billy put one boot up on the wall as he leaned against it. 

“Yeeeah,” the older man continued to talk as if they had been having a conversation the whole time. “Your family moved in last year right? Moved out here from California- the land of _whispering bushes_." The old guy was _loaded_ -sounded like it too- as he hissed out that last part.

Dean’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hair. “The _what_?”

“The land of whisperin' bushes. Ya pull over at the side of the road to take a pish and suddenly you hear- ‘psst! come over ‘er!’ " He laughed an ugly phlegmy laugh as Dean tried to figure out what the hell he was saying, unable not to stare at him like he was insane. He hadn’t heard _that_ _one_ before.

“I think you probably need to see a doc if the bushes start talking to you, old man,” Billy told him. And that shitty defensive attitude was firmly back in place. 

“What about you, boy?” He looked at Dean now- maybe he noticed Dean’s single earring, or the silver ring on his left middle finger, or maybe it was just that Dean was twenty something. Dean stared at him the way he would have stared down his own father. 

“You from that hippie land too?” 

“I’m a Kansas boy,” Dean said, taking a drag, feeling it burn inside his clean lungs. It was true. Not that he had lived there for any great amount of time once his mom had been killed. His dad had shuffled them out of state by the time he was eleven. 

The older man chuckled and they stood around in itchy silence for a while as the sound of blues music drifted out from the dark doorway of the bar, until finally the older man put out his cigarette and went back inside, retreating to the siren call of more booze and leaving Dean and Billy alone in the twilight. 

Billy turned his head and gave Dean a smug sloppy smile. “So, Kansas, huh Dorothy?”

Dean glared at him softly, trying and failing at not looking at his lips. “You still wanna finish that game?”

Billy sighed. “I’m good. I think I’d rather not be nearby when a house finally falls on that woman.”

Dean chuckled. Billy tipped his head back against the wall looking a little sloppy, a little drunk, the side of his face without the bruise visible to Dean. And Dean wasn’t deluded enough to pretend he didn’t see the way Billy struggled not to let his eyes wander across Dean’s body. Dean was struggling with his own problems looking at the way Billy’s neck was exposed with his head back like that. For a little too long they exchanged glances, carefully weighted glances that tried too hard to mean nothing, until Dean felt the need to break the silence. “I don’t know how I managed to find possibly the most homophobic bar in all Indiana,” he said.

“All the bars are homophobic in Indiana. Apparently just having a dick makes you suspect,” Billy said conversationally.

“Are they really?”

“Why?" And this time his eyes did travel up and down Dean's body. "You queer?”

Oh... they were still doing this? Like they hadn’t been eye fucking for the last hour? 

Billy laughed suddenly. “I’m just fucking with you, man.”

“I’m not gay,” Dean said. “I just like to keep my options open.” It was a bold statement but something about killing monsters had crafted Dean into someone less afraid of your regular everyday douchebags, go figure. And if it all went South it wasn’t like he was gonna come back here any time soon.

Billy licked his lips and gave him a narrow eyed leer. “So’s that a yes?”

“It’s whatever you wanna make it,” Dean told him.

“Right, whatever.” Billy sighed again for some reason. It looked like he was about to say something else but there was suddenly a noise like a small alarm clock going off and his brow furrowed in confusion.

Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out a black pager. “I uh…” he said as he read the little horizontal screen, ”I gotta make a call.” 

There was a phone booth on the side of the building. Dean drifted away from Billy and made his way over to it. 

Billy finished his smoke, listening to Dean dial someone on the phone and talk in a quiet voice for about five minutes, after which the conversation elevated to an argument that culminated in him yelling-

“You always do this. You’re _selfish_ , you know that? You don’t ever think about anyone but yourself!”

Billy had a wild thought that maybe Dean was married and just sneaking around at the bar on the down low until he heard him say: “Goodbye Sam.” ' _Sam_ ' could have meant a man or a woman… Dean hung up and Billy felt awkward but also curious. He didn’t have a reason to be there now that he’d finished his cigarette and wasn’t planning on going back inside even to pay. He put his hands in his pockets and waited for Dean to look at him again with those pretty hazel green eyes. “What was that about?” He asked when Dean finally wandered back towards him.

“Nothin'. Just my brother being an idiot.” He looked upset. More upset than someone should be over their sibling’s stupidity. He wasn’t looking at Billy the way he had been earlier, he was somewhere else now, his thoughts on other things. Maybe it was only a speculation induced by alcohol but he thought Dean looked a little teary eyed, like if he’d been alone he might have cried- just a little. But he didn’t. He let out a ragged sigh. He was that fucked up over his brother? Weird. “ _So_ , younger brother? Older brother?” Maybe Dean was lying and it hadn’t really been his brother.

“My little brother.” Dean answered, still staring off with palpable frustration brimming at the edges. “He’s just being stupid and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Billy slapped Dean’s shoulder with the back of his hand in the most friendly gesture he had made all night. “Live and learn, am I right?”

Dean looked surprised that he’d touched him. “Yeah. Yeah I guess. Unless it gets you killed."

"Shit-”

“Never mind,” Dean interjected like he’d already given away too much. “Look, I think I’m gonna motor.” 

And there it was. They were just gonna walk away and that was that. It pissed Billy off and he wasn’t entirely sure why. “Cool,” he said. 

Dean nodded, a little bit of that interest he’d had in Billy returning to his eyes. He cleared his throat. “Alright. Later.” He turned and started walking away. 

In the parking lot sat a smooth black Impala, ten maybe fifteen years old, maybe a little more, and Dean was making for it. Billy was leaving anyway so he walked out the same direction. “Nice car,” he said. 

“Thanks.” Dean said, looking back over his shoulder at him as he fished out his keys. 

“I looked at one when I was shopping for cars but I ended up buying a Camaro off this guy back in California.”

 _Not bad,_ Dean’s expression said.

Billy walked over and looked into the car. Dean was standing against the driver’s side with the door open.

“Nice seats.”

Dean noticed that there was no Camaro anywhere in sight. The bar was on the side of a country highway. The other side of the street was all pasture land. “You need a ride somewhere?”

Billy looked up at him in what he thought was surprise and then a calculating look. 

It was an unexpected turn. Billy thought about it. There was nowhere he wanted to be. Nowhere to go in this cramped backwards town. He could barely call the people he knew friends, they weren’t even close enough for him to just drop by and he wasn’t planning on going home anytime soon. But now that he’d left the bar there weren’t a lot of options left. He was probably just gonna go to another bar. Before he could come up with an answer Dean spoke again. 

“If you're still interested in drinking I got supplies back at my motel. There’s a good chance that’s what I’ll be doing with the rest of my evening.” 

“I was just gonna bar hop,” Billy told him like that’d been his plan all along.

“You know anywhere else that’s not quite so-”

“ _Backwater_? In this town?” Billy made a noise in his throat. “Nope.”

“You’re welcome to join me,” Dean said in the most _heterosexual_ way possible and yet-

“You want me to come back to your room? God you are gay aren’t you?” Billy shook his head and smiled a small, arrogant, slightly condescending smile.

Dean had almost exclusively hooked up with men who were in the closet- because everyone was in the closet- but Jesus this guy was making him work for it. Billy was on _another_ level with his hard to get mixed signals. Dean had played _nice_ so far but he was only good at keeping that up for so long. “What is your problem? I can smell your damn hairspray from five miles away and you're out here _yanking_ my chain? _Buddy_...”

Billy was fingering his cigarette packet again already like a true addict but he went still, his eyes locked onto Dean, and Dean wondered if he was gonna try and take a swing at him. Instead he smiled an uncomfortable smile with so many layers of fucked up behind it Dean would have taken a step back if the door wasn’t already practically against his back. It was the kind of psycho knee-jerk smile you gave to someone who'd already bested you in a fight, before telling them it feels good, _hit me again_. Billy didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, but he took a step into Dean’s space to intimidate him. 

It didn’t shut Dean up however and his voice was quiet and penetrating when he spoke. “Do I remind you of the part of you that you don’t like, is that it?” And before Billy could start being pissed about that, Dean added- “Or is it the part of you someone else doesn’t like?” And then he’d gone too far. He didn’t know what masochistic part of him had decided to keep talking but he saw himself stepping over that line like it was happening in slow motion.

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy said in a toneless voice, beyond snappy comebacks now.

“Why don’t you _make me_?” 

“ _Maybe I will,”_ Billy growled at him. _“_ You like dick so much, maybe I should give you some of this one.” Billy reached down, hooking his thumb into the front of his belt and making a grabbing gesture that managed to almost be subtle.

Those words sent a flood of heat to Dean’s groin despite the warning sirens going off. He wasn’t sure if this was working out the way he had wanted or not. His eyes were forcibly drawn to the crotch of Billy’s tight jeans where his fingers lingered.

“I’ll show you how fuckin' queer you are when my cock is in your mouth,” Billy kept going. 

Dean didn’t even have to improvise, Billy practically wrote the script for them. He got even closer, put his hand on the door, caging Dean in. Dean hadn’t ever felt so confused and yet turned on. “Yeah? Show me-” his brain rolled over, _wait_ , “-I mean, I’m not _gay_.”

“You would say that wouldn’t you? Faggot...” Billy said _faggot_ the way someone might have called a woman _sweetheart,_ and he sucked his bottom lip just a little right after like he was tasting the word. The sound of his voice was so low and throaty Dean couldn’t shake himself out of his sudden fever enough to be offended. And then Billy’s hand was on his chest as he cornered him even tighter, tucking his unlit cigarette behind his ear. He leaned in so close Dean could taste the sharp cologne and the musky smoke on him. 

“Get in the car,” Billy said in a deep growl. The bruise on his cheek was starting to purple and his right eye up close was a little more swollen, making it look like he had a lazy eye, but the whole thing added to the attraction in a bad way. Dean was fully on board with whatever this was and would have slid down and into the driver’s seat if at that moment he didn’t hear the cackling of drunk women walking out of the bar and looked over to see both of them accompanied now by their new allies- they had finally found someone to bum cigarettes off and were drunk enough not to care what those someones looked like.

The little group looked over at Dean and Billy and the same woman who had called him gay before gave him a snotty leer. One of the men with them followed her gaze and shouted. “You boys on a date?” The whole group dissolved into jeering laughter. 

Dean's jaw tightened and he felt Billy’s hand slip away. But Billy didn’t move, just took his cigarette back from we’re he'd tucked it and moved it to his lips, his elbow resting on the hood of Dean’s car as he stared across the parking lot like he was thinking about going over there and ruining their night.

“This ain’t a gay bar,” the other man in the group said and renewed their laughter. 

“Yeah, then why are you here?” Dean shouted back at them automatically.

The two men immediately went on the defensive, staring at Dean in disgust. “You watch your mouth, _boy_.”

Billy flipped them off.

Apart from throwing a few more nasty looks, the group seemed to lose interest in Dean and Billy for the moment, the women continued to cackle wildly about who-knew-what. 

“Assholes. I’m sorry,” Dean found himself apologizing to Billy and he wasn’t entirely sure why except that he knew this was probably more problematic for him than it was for Dean. “Let me give you a ride home?” He offered. He didn’t want to leave Billy here regardless of whether or not Billy wanted anything to do with him. Although it seemed unlikely a few craggy old drunks could do much to someone like Billy. It was more about damning rumors than physical violence.

“In your dreams, pretty boy.” Billy backed off, looking annoyed but not necessarily with Dean. 

Dean‘s jaw ticked with unexpressed feeling. If those people only knew how many guns were in his car… he'd been so close to getting somewhere with Billy. But Billy lived here and he couldn’t escape. Dean wasn’t going to make it worse for him. 

Tossing his jacket casually over his shoulder Billy took a couple steps backwards. “Take it easy, Dean,” he said like he'd only spoken to him for a few minutes instead of hours. He turned and walked down towards the road.

Dean wanted to say literally anything to keep him there but there was nothing left he could think of. His eyes followed Billy, tasting his cigarettes still on his tongue, and aching for something he wasn’t sure he would have even had. He tried to enjoy the last few seconds he got of Billy strutting off to the roadside, like they said: _hate to see him leave but…_

Billy passed behind some bushes and was out of sight.

Dean remained a while longer, leaning over the roof of the Impala as the sun set fully before he got in his car and decided that following Billy would have been inappropriate, although he did consider it. He would at least make sure no one else followed him either. The group of people outside went back into the bar after not very long, having completely written off their previous harassment with the short term memory of drunkenness. Dean started the car and headed back to the motel. He couldn’t help looking back the way Billy had left just one last time.


	2. The Godless Pagans of the West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly smut and budding romance. First times. This fic is really more like a "crash and burn" before the renewed burning starts kicking in.

Beautiful wasn’t a word anyone would have used to describe his motel room, but at least the lighting was bad enough you almost couldn’t tell. The carpets were an orangey brown color with terrible large geometric flower patterns and the beds were flat and beige. The place was empty when he went in. Sam’s things were gone. Dean was alone. 

His brother had made the decision to take off after their father, or whatever answers he thought he was chasing, whether Dean liked it or not- he was going to hitchhike and bus all the way back to California despite their father’s wishes for them to go after another bigger case looming on the horizon which his cryptic message seemed to imply needed their urgent attention. 

Sam had never listened to their father, it wasn’t a surprise he didn’t listen to Dean either, and at the moment their father wasn’t listening to anyone. Not even a shaky voice message from his scared son begging for help was enough to spurn their father into reaching out to them. Maybe he had never got the message. Maybe he had. Dean didn’t know which option he hated less. 

His father had been one loss he hadn’t really come to terms with. Didn’t know how. His brother was another one he’d had to suffer today and he still hadn’t allowed himself to feel anything about it yet. He wasn’t even sure what he was _supposed_ to feel about it. Betrayal? Anger? Disappointment? Maybe all of them, maybe none. Getting Sam involved in this hunting trip had been a gamble from the start. He hadn’t thought of himself as lonely before Sammy came back but now that he was gone again Dean realized how disconnected he was. Apart from his “job,” he really didn’t have anyone these days, and now he couldn’t even keep his family together. He was...very alone. And he wasn’t even sure what to do anymore.

And then there was Billy...outta nowhere. His existence alone provided a _very_ diverting suggestion. It wasn’t like Dean to get hung up on some random stranger he’d just met at a bar- but _jesus…_ Billy’s existence had struck him like a hit and run. He wasn’t sure there had been a way to win that one at all, maybe it had been futile from the start, but it had been enough to distract him from everything else for a little while. One of these days he was going to have to stop chasing “straight” guys.

He made himself get in the shower and let the hot water wash out the stiffness remaining from the long drive, wash away the cigarette smoke of the bar... consciously deciding not masturbate- not that the recollection of that fist against his chest, hard knuckles and smooth arms, wasn’t enough to keep him going for months- maybe the rest of the year- but because he was starting to feel a little depressed and also because he preferred to do that sort of thing before bed. He let it alone for now. What would Billy have done? If he’d got into the car with him, maybe had Dean suck him off right there...maybe he would have gone back and outed Dean to everyone right after. Guys like that were unpredictable but it made it more exciting- or at least for him. It was possible most people weren’t into that specific sort of thrill. Maybe Dean just needed the danger these days to make it feel real. He wasn’t going to try and unpack those issues right now.

He got out and got dressed again. At least good old Jack Daniel was here for him. The rectangular bottle of whiskey sat on top of a boxy television set, looking alluring. Dean turned a knob on the TV, it clicked and stuttered to life, some barely colored old western was on. He left it there, really only wanting the background noise to distract him from his thoughts. When he had first arrived he had been looking forward to relaxing but now it was the last thing Dean felt like doing. The second to last thing? Sitting in front of the TV for four or five hours and then going to bed. It was late but maybe he could call this Hopper guy and get some more information out of him. He had no details. All his dad had sent him was: there's “something in Indiana,” “something big” and “it’s spreading fast.”

When he put the plastic receiver of the beige motel phone to his ear the sound of buzzing emptiness met him. He held it in place with his shoulder as he flipped open the torn piece of a paper bag with the name _J Hopper_ written on it above a phone number and then punched it in. He got one, two, three….six rings... ten rings- he pressed his finger to the hang up button on the phone’s base and set the receiver back down.

Before he could go after the whiskey bottle he remembered this place had an ice machine somewhere. Ice wasn’t necessary for his alcohol consumption but it seemed like a shame not to take advantage of it since it wasn’t always a common amenity at motels outside major cities- and it was a warm night. Not bothering to bring his keys or lock the door he went out to search. 

The contraption was a giant thing humming loudly there in the night at the other end of the motel. The motel was plain and flat fronted, with all the doors running alongside one another in a straight row. There were about ten, maybe fifteen of them. He hadn’t counted. He filled the complimentary, small, metal pail and started back to the room with the container cold in his hands and gathering condensation in the muggy weather. The day had been hot and even now the air was still on the warm side. It must have been about nine o clock, maybe later. It didn’t matter much to him. 

As he walked back he heard the high whine of a car engine riding down the empty highway, it took on a deeper sound as it drew closer. The lights from the walkway made it hard to see the dark lot and beyond but he could hear the sound of the car as it arrived in front. The headlights lit up the road and it pulled into the motel carport with a rumble, spilling light over the ground. Somewhere down the long row of parking spots adjacent to the room doors it parked, at the end farthest away from Dean but closest to his room. He continued to walk back as the car went silent and the sound of its door opening and closing echoed in the dark. He watched the driver’s silhouette as they stepped up to the light. It was Billy.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. Billy stood on the sidewalk in front of the rooms, his eyes found Dean immediately. Dean had to ask himself if he was imagining this, but once he got over his disbelief there was only one direction to go and Billy happened to be right in the middle of his path, just standing there like he was waiting for Dean to come to him. The light from the yellow lamps bounced off the thick waves of his well styled hair- and his _skin_ \- Jesus there was a lot more of it than Dean remembered. Billy had taken his shirt off and was only wearing his motorcycle jacket…if the intention had been to persuade Dean in some way he really hadn’t needed to try that hard. He hadn’t needed to try _at all._

Dean came to a stop a few feet in front of him, shamelessly drinking him in. " _Hey_ ," he said, breathless without justification; he had been walking very slowly.

Despite the fact that he was suddenly right here of his own volition Billy didn’t even act like he was pleased to see Dean. _“Hey,”_ he mimicked with devastating casualness. 

“Gotta say I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be here... didn’t feel like going home.” The earring in Billy’s ear did a little dance as he tipped his head. “Brought you a house warming gift.” He held up a bottle of Tequila.

“Thanks. How did you find me? -nice car by the way,” Dean said, not taking his eyes off of Billy or even looking at the car.

“Thanks. This is the only motel nearby and your car is the only one parked here pretty much so...” 

“Wow. Yeah. I had no idea you were a detective. Am I in some kinda trouble?”

“I dunno. Are you?”

“Usually.”

He was sure Billy was trying not to smile then. Billy made a noise that was almost a laugh. Dean found it was a losing battle right now trying to suppress his own grin and act cool so he gave up fighting it and Billy’s demeanor softened a little when Dean smiled at him, not entirely, but it was something. And because Dean couldn’t stop staring at his face he walked past him to the room only a short distance away. “Come inside,” he suggested to him, voice a little huskier than intended. 

Ridiculously Billy looked like he was going to protest- even after driving over here _shirtless_ and bringing alcohol with him. So Dean didn’t wait for a response, he went in and left the door open. If Billy still wanted to torment him with playing hard to get that was fine. Dean could take it. But he was gonna have to do it inside. His room was the only one with a light on in the window apart from the office at the end. There were probably at least one or two other people lodging here but it felt like it was deserted.

Billy took one last furtive look around the dark motel front before he followed Dean into the room, keeping a few feet of space between them. He closed the door behind him.

Once they were inside Dean wondered if Billy was losing his nerve. All that spitfire talk from earlier seemed to have left him and he was quiet and stood by the door looking out of place.

“Sorry the lighting is garbage in here," Dean said. "You want something to drink or you good?” He gestured to the bottle of tequila. 

“Whadya got?” Billy asked. He was chewing gum Dean noticed now and he made it pop loudly as he closed his mouth. 

“Let’s see,” Dean examined the small table against the wall as he took off his jean jacket in order to reveal his lean frame in the small black top. “We have an impressive variety here consisting of Jack Daniels and cheap beer.” The beer was on the table, he went to get the whiskey off the TV.

“Jack it is,” Billy said. 

To Dean’s relief Billy left off standing by the door and walked over to set the tequila on the table next to the six pack of Budweiser before he sat on the bed while Dean poured them both each a large double shot, one with ice, one without, and held them both out for Billy to pick. Billy took the one without ice, which Dean had predicted. He had wanted the ice anyway. Dean allowed himself to appreciate that Billy was on the bed. He could have taken the chair by the TV but he hadn’t. He’d chosen the bed and Dean tried not to look too pleased about this. “Where’d you go earlier?” 

“Nowhere. Back to my car. I was parked at the Circle K down the street. Those guys give you trouble?”

“Nah.”

“Everyone in this town is a fucking coward,” Billy said.

Dean gestured towards his own eye to indicate the bruise on Billy’s face. “What about that?”

Billy tossed back the drink in one go. “Still none of your business,” he rasped with the alcohol burn in his voice.

“Alright. It’s just, we’ve been hanging out for a couple hours now and I still feel like I need an icebreaker.” 

Billy smirked at him and leaned back on his elbows. “There’s no cracking this cool exterior, Dean. Just get used to it.” 

Dean wanted to grin and shove him at the same time, he managed to not do that second thing and maybe only a little of the first. “This is it huh? What you see is what you get?”

“If you wanna have a heart to heart you could always tell me why you’re really in Hawkins.”

Maybe Billy wasn’t all just hot air. He knew there was more going on with Dean than Dean let on. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said, sitting on the bed next to Billy, but not too close, maybe... just close enough to brush his knee in a little bit...

“You mean you’re not just on the hunt for young men?”

Dean gave him an affronted look. “Maybe I should have given you the beer instead,” he chided. “You obviously can’t handle your liquor.”

Billy was propped on one elbow now, head back just enough that the ends of his hair almost touched the bed as he looked up at Dean. It was terrible. He looked fantastically lurid. Like some centerfold model with way too much clothing on. He gave Dean a cheeky grin. _Finally_. Dean had been waiting for it. He knew it was in there.

Now he had to explain why he was here? “My uh... little brother and me were on a road trip, and uh, we were supposed to meet up with our dad to do this whole family trip thing but he got called away on business. Aaand... so my brother sort of bailed on the whole thing. It’s a long story. Not a very interesting one.” Billy watched Dean talk and Dean wondered if he knew he was full of shit.

“Tell me an interesting one,” Billy said plainly. He held out his glass for Dean. Dean took the glass to refill it, feeling a strange sort of pleasure at being of service to him. He normally didn’t enjoy doing anything for anyone, especially if they _expected_ him to do it, and Billy definitely was looking at him with an mischievous look of expectation. Dean didn’t mind at all and it was strange, but _good_ strange. “An interesting one…” he mused as he poured. 

“On the rocks,” Billy slipped in.

Dean paused long enough to give him a look, but then added the ice anyway. He tried to think of any interesting stories he knew that didn’t involve monsters or his father’s reckless parenting. “Last time I was in Indiana...I was in high school.”

“No shit?”

“We moved here for a year when I was seventeen. I got expelled after two weeks.”

Billy raised his eyebrows. “Wow, troublemaker. Who would have known? What did you do?”

“A lot of things. Mostly I just left whenever I felt like it. I set the fire alarm off one time and told everyone the school was being attacked.”

“What the hell?” Billy laughed. 

“Where are you from?” Dean turned the conversation back on him.

“...California.”

“Hm, that makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Southern California.”

“San Diego.”

“Is that where you picked up the-” Dean made a gesture at Billy’s hair.

“Picked up _what,_ Dean?” Billy dared him to say something about his hair.

Dean didn’t take the bait. “The tan....why’d you move?”

“Lotta reasons. Mainly Neil didn’t like that there were too many people like _me_.” 

“Narcissists?”

“Ha. Funny,” Billy said sarcastically. “I mean-”

-there was a strange noise and suddenly the lights went out. The cowboy shootout that had been playing at low volume in the background cut off.

“The hell?” Dean looked around but it was hard to see anything now.

“Power out?” Billy suggested.

“Must be,” Dean said as he got up to go look out the front door. Everything was dark. The entire front of the hotel was black and there weren’t any lights in the distance from the town. It was heavily silent now, the ice machine no longer whirring in the background. He felt Billy press against his arm as he placed one hand on the doorframe and one hand on the door to peer out and get a look. Somewhere far in the distance a car horn sounded off one long blare of noise and there was silence again. The warm naked skin of Billy’s chest and stomach against his bare arm made goosebumps run all the way up to his neck. “Traffic lights must be out, guess you’ll have to stay...” Dean turned his face to find Billy looking at him, losing any other words he had.

The stars were visible now that everything else had been turned off and the lack of electricity added an otherworldly feel to the atmosphere. There was a soft extra layer of privacy to the night now. It was harder to see but Dean was hyper aware of their bodies more than ever. He slipped his arm around Billy’s waist, easing close, feeling the smooth skin against the inside of his forearm…He didn’t know who moved in for it first but their lips came together in slow kiss that built into something longer, and harder, until Dean felt dizzy with it, he grabbed onto the doorframe, feeling the pliant warmth of Billy’s mouth in the darkness and the shitty taste of their liquor and cigarettes that right now may as well have been ambrosia. Billy pulled back to smoothly spit his gum out the door, not even managing to ruin the mood; if anything it added to the spontaneous tacky charm of it. They continued to kiss in the open door, neither one of them cognizant of the world splitting open to release an unearthly terror somewhere on the other side of town so vicious half of Hawkins had lost power. 

Dean risked letting go of his tether and turning his body fully to Billy while his hands found their way into his long hair, soft underneath at the nape of his neck and little stiff with product everywhere else. His thumbs brushed Billy's jaw, fingers pressing against the pulse of his neck, until Dean didn’t think he could stand up anymore and Billy was the one who closed the door finally and pushed Dean towards the bed. Billy’s jacket was off by the time they got to it, leaving him half naked. Dean’s top was next to go.

 _“I want you,”_ Billy said into the dark room, stating what was now obvious. “Wanted you since I saw you sitting there.”

“Did you sit down next to me on purpose?” Dean had to ask.

“...What, couldn’t you tell?”

“Usually my fantasies don’t come true like that.”

The back of Dean’s legs touched the bed and he had to grab onto Billy more firmly in order to not lose his balance. “All I know is you’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he confessed, the words rough in his throat.

“Tell me what you want,” Billy said.

He was already getting what he wanted, he couldn’t think of specifics, although tasting every inch of Billy at the moment sounded good. He had seen just enough of his skin to want all of it.

“Want me to suck you off?” Billy hissed.

The thought made Dean shiver, it was nice, oh it was very nice, but something about it just didn't hit right. He wasn’t sure he liked the way Billy asked, his voice wet with a little hint of meanness in it, like he wanted it but he also _expected_ Dean to want that. It was telling of what sort of men Billy had been involved with. Self loathing closet cases maybe, guys who considered themselves straight even with another man’s lips around their cock, guys who didn’t want to get too intimate during sex because they weren’t _gay_. During Dean’s explorations those kinds of men seemed to be in the majority. He could only assume however, he sure as hell wasn’t gonna ask right now. 

“I wanna hear you moan, sweetheart,” he told Billy wholeheartedly. The endearment slipped out unintentionally, because that was just the way he talked during moments like this, it just wasn’t usually the way he talked _to guys_. But it was out there now and he couldn’t take it back so he was gonna roll with it. Billy was perfectly capable of telling him to shut up if he didn’t like it. He didn’t though.

Dean allowed gravity to take him down to the bed with Billy climbing over him right away, pushing him onto his back while Dean leaned up to kiss him as he undid the buttons down the front of Billy’s jeans, backs of his knuckles against the soft skin of Billy’s stomach. Billy parted Dean’s lips with a long probing stroke of his tongue that made Dean forget they even had jeans on for a little bit. But once they were finally open Dean wrapped his arm around Billy and rolled them over so Billy was under him. Billy didn’t put up a fight. It was hard to tell with him, even now, how he would respond. His body was tense, edgy- _hard_. He was like the type of animal that demanded your attention all right now and then a second later bit you because you did it wrong.

Dean was going to take his time, as long as Billy let him. His lips started at Billy’s smooth collar bones and worked their way across every sensitive spot he could find. Nipples. Ribs. Breathing him in at the crease between his arm and chest. His fingers wrapped around Billy’s cock, squeezing gently, giving him enough to keep him increasingly harder but not enough to satisfy.

Billy wriggled against him, pushing himself into Dean’s hand. 

Dean’s mouth hit his waistline, opened his lips over the dip next to his hip bone and slipped down to nuzzle into the hair at Billy’s groin. If Dean had any doubts about Billy’s sexuality they were washed away officially by the sheer fact that his personal hygiene was obviously great. He smelled _clean_ , _hot_ , and like a little _too much_ , and good, just really fucking good. The heady scent of his cologne was strong and Dean’s head was swimming with it. He heard Billy let out a long breath as he sunk his fingers into Dean's short hair, urging him, getting needy. Dean let his lips feel the delicate skin of Billy’s cock before he sucked it into the pocket of his cheek and lolled his tongue around it, moaning at the taste and the silky feel.

 _“Oh fuck,”_ Billy groaned.

Dean felt the tension in Billy leaving him as he became more demanding, thrusting into Dean’s mouth as he held his head with loose careless hands. Dean’s cock was straining in agreement. When he heard Billy make a deeper more aggressive sound he remembered him outside the bar, playing rough. If he wanted to be in control Dean had no problems with that, had about _zero_ problems with anything Billy might have wanted to do right now. And to be fair Dean was tired of being the one in control, his entire life was about just trying to keep shit together. Regardless of all that he could still do it for Billy, with pleasure, but he could also just give Billy the reigns. He pulled his mouth off of him with a wet noise, saliva starting to run down his chin.

Billy pulled at him, dragged Dean upwards, and pushed him down so he could take Dean’s pants off and then get rid of his own completely. When their bodies came together again Dean moaned at the sensation of hot naked thighs against his. He didn’t usually let men fuck him, he didn’t trust anyone enough for that, but he thought, if Billy asked, he’d probably let him do it. 

The slender chain around Billy’s neck, warm from body heat, hung down and bounced lightly against Dean’s chin and he caught the pendant in his lips tugging on it enough to get a small smirk out of Billy who leaned back and brushed it away, pushing his hair back away from his face at the same time. He took Dean's hands and pressed them back into the bed. He had to slide further up, almost straddling Dean’s hips and giving Dean an agonizing view of his chest, and the way his pecs and shoulders flexed holding him there. 

Dean squeezed his hands tighter in Billy’s grip, trying to coax him down close enough that he could get his mouth on the smoothly muscled chest that was so close to him. Billy thankfully did him a favor, leaning forward so that Dean could lick and suck on him, feeling Billy’s pecs tense and soften- and then tense again. He abruptly pulled his hands free to run them down the arching curve of Billy’s back, it was too tempting like this not to touch- but it evoked a strange response that broke their rhythm. Billy’s body went tense and he pulled Dean’s arms away, pressing them down- like whatever Dean had done had caused him discomfort. It passed quickly and Billy relaxed back into him again, acting like it hadn’t happened.

Dean allowed him to lead, remaining pliant and eager underneath him now, refusing to try anything that might chase him away.

His stomach was slick with Billy’s precum by the time Billy slid down to kiss him again. He hadn’t been this content to just make out with someone in recent memory, or possibly ever, especially while Billy stroked his cock in a slow lazy way that put him in a trance, made his body limp and helpless while his cock continued to jerk without bringing him any closer to getting off. He half expected Billy to get tired of this whole affair taking so long and hurry it up but nothing he did implied he was in a rush to get it done and over. 

“Dean...” pleasantly heavy on top of him, he said the words Dean hadn’t actually expected to hear... _“I wanna fuck you.”_ His cock was burning against Dean’s thigh.

Dean let out a small agonized moan in reply. He didn’t say yes, just maneuvered Billy between his thighs, squeezing him, making their cocks touch, making Billy’s dick slide messily against the inside of Dean’s thigh leaving a slippery smear behind. 

“I’ve got something,” Dean muttered, fighting through the haze of his lust to think so they could proceed. He rolled away to reach over the side of the bed where his duffel bag was on the floor. He had lube, thank god, but he hadn’t expected to be using it for this. He found the container and pulled himself back eagerly into Billy’s hungry and surprisingly patient embrace. “You’ll barely need this,” Dean said as he took him in hand, giving him a few hard quick strokes and gliding his thumb over the slick head of his cock. 

“Have you done this before?” Billy asked.

“...Yeah. Of course. You?”

“Sure.”

A beat of silence passed between them.

“I’ve never done this before,” Dean confessed.

“Me either,” Billy admitted.

A small laugh escaped Dean. “I mean, I’ve done it the other way around but not like this.”

“Same.” 

Dean’s brain registered this vaguely with surprising jealousy and less surprising arousal. Someone had fucked Billy. Billy had let someone fuck him. 

Billy was hesitating even though his cock was heavy lying there between them. “You’re really gonna let me take your ass virginity?” He sounded amused and skeptical.

“Uh, I’m not so sure you can call my ass virgin, but yeah, you’ll be the first dick I’ve had in there.”

“You’ve had other things in there?”

“Is this a game show? If I answer enough questions will you fuck me already?”

“Somebody is impatient,” Billy said to him. “Don't worry about that. I’m gonna fuck you.” His voice dropped lower, the amusement leaving it. “Tell me what you said earlier,” he mouthed across Dean’s shoulder. 

“Earlier?”

“Earlier by the car. What’d you say?”

“Um...nice car?” 

“No, before we left the bar.”

“Oh god...” Dean couldn’t think, Billy was touching him in so many places. “ _I’m not gay?_ ”

Billy laughed out loud this time, breaking his serious persona. “Ok yeah. Let's go with that.”

Dean groaned as Billy’s cock slid back behind his balls teasing him. “Oh yeah,” Dean said “super, _super_ not gay.”

“Not yet,” that sharp hint of hostility from earlier that evening was back in his voice. The sound was deep and almost threatening when he spoke to Dean. “You won’t be able to cum without my cock inside you when I’m done.”

That was a big claim but Dean was willing to believe it if he said so, if only for the sake of the moment. He knew he was supposed to play along but he just wanted to agree with him. “I guess you’ll have to prove it,” he told him in the most taunting voice he could manage with Billy’s strong fingers squeezing his erection. 

Billy had slicked himself with the lube and Dean was so ready to take him it would have been easy for Billy’s cock to slid right in, but he entered him gradually, fucking just the head of his cock slowly in as he pushed Dean’s thighs back and adjusted himself better. 

“Holy sh- aah,” Dean gasped. 

Billy leaned over him more, sucking in a breath and shuddering. He was quiet for a long while except for the erotic sound of his breathing, even and heavy. He seemed to be somewhere else, transported by the pleasure to another plane.

“ _More_ ,” Dean said after only half a minute. It was almost too soon but he wanted it and Billy gave it to him, coming back to earth with, “Yeah? Is this what you want?” Before his thrusts lit up Dean’s body with a fiery pleasure that had him gasping. He slid his cock halfway in, leaning over to take his weight on his arms so he could fuck him at a more controlled angle and continued on that way, not giving him his full length while picking up the speed. 

_“God that’s...holy shit-”_

“Yeah, tell me,” Billy said hot and sleazy, his hands finding purchase on Dean’s arms, holding him down and digging his fingers into his muscles.

“ _Oh fuck..._ I’m not gay,” Dean said unconvincingly with a moan, more than willing to play the straight boy act if it made Billy’s cock jump violently like it did just then, sliding farther in him, and fuck he wanted that.

“What was that?” 

“-Oh Jesus- _not...gay,_ ” he struggled to get the words out between gasps as his breath caught in his throat, and was rewarded by Billy jamming into him deeper. Billy shuddered and moaned over him and then forced himself to gain control over what he was feeling. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said. “You just want my cock.”

 _“Yes-god yes...”_

“I know you like that, pretty boy,” Billy continued on, a stream of dirty talk flowing out of him that filled any of the vacant crevices in Dean’s psyche that weren’t already completely busting at the seams with lust. Dean reached down to stroke himself along with Billy’s thrusts. And Billy asked him if he wanted more, he wasn’t sure he could handle much more but he asked for it anyway, and Billy pushed inside him until Dean was too full, until his balls were pressed against Billy and he stayed like that, pulled Dean’s own hand off his cock and started pumping it in long slow hard movements. “Beg for me,” he drawled in his cocky self satisfied tone, breathing harder now.

 _“_ Fuck me..." Dean gave him, "Billy _\- fuck_ me _.”_

“Like the way you say my name,” Billy slurred thickly at him, “s _ounds so good”_ and then- _“_ what’s the magic word?” 

“You’re such an asshole,” Dean rasped as he struggled to get more of Billy’s cock. Billy let go of his dick and grabbed Dean's hips, holding him down. “ _Say it…_ ”

Dean groaned. _“Please,”_ he ground out. _“Please just fuck me._ ” Dean thought of all the things he liked to hear when he was inside someone. “Fill me. I want you to fuck me until your cum leaks out of my ass-” 

_“Oh shit,_ ” Billy said in surprise. “You want that, huh?” It was apparently more than Billy was ready to handle after all, and not more than a couple seconds of giving him exactly what he asked for had him slowing down and holding his breath with a pained expression that Dean could almost see in the dark. He knew from the hard pulsing jerks of his cock that Billy was trying not to cum right then.

Billy let out a breath and kept going, slowly, working back up to the same speed as before, angling his cock up in a way that hit a spot in Dean that forced him to stop stroking himself completely- or risk spilling his load right now. If he didn’t touch it he could last a while like this, until it was too much, and he wanted to see how long Billy could take it. 

Billy had stopped talking. He sat back, grabbing Dean roughly, fucking him with an easy rhythm that wasn’t very fast anymore, Dean could just make out his silhouette, head back, lips parted- the sounds he made could have been mistaken for pain or pleasure. _“Aaaah fuuuck_ ,” Billy cried, the syllables long and drawn out. His thrusts slowed down to _one_ , _two_ \- a pause... and then another few thrusts and a short pause...he leaned back down over Dean and slid his arms under his shoulders, digging his fingers into them, getting a grip that he could use for leverage, using his strength to hold himself close to him and forcing Dean to stretch his thigh further back as he leaned on him and delivered his last shaky thrusts. _“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”_

In a way Dean knew he was asking for permission but he wouldn’t have let Billy pull out now if he tried. _“Do it. Give it to me.”_

Billy kissed him, his lips parted against Dean’s own as he came with hard uneven thrusts that pushed Dean over the edge and his own semen shot and gushed out between them.

Billy let himself unfurl from that position after a few seconds, slipping out of him slowly, making Dean clench, before he fell down next to him, the back of his neck sweaty against Dean’s arm.

The muscles in Dean's legs burned in a way that ached and felt good at the same time when he stretched. He bent his elbow, locking Billy in close to him so that when Billy turned his head Dean could kiss him. They laid there in the dark, not saying anything for a little while. Dean could have easily fallen asleep right then although he didn’t want to while Billy was still here. 

That option was removed for him when the lights flared on again, like the curtain had been raised on their sinful act. They both let out similar noises of displeasure. Billy threw his arms over his face with an- “Uhg, why?” Dean squeezed his eyes closed momentarily but he eventually opened them in order to look at Billy. “That was probably for the best,” he told him. “I don’t know how long I would have lasted if I could have seen your face.” 

Billy peaked out from under his arms, looking sedated. “Yeah I don’t know if I could have held off the inevitable staring at your _sucky_ lips.” 

It was a little awkward now in this fresh new light, both of them sticky and wrecked there on top of the bedding. When Billy had his eyes closed again Dean forced himself to get up and roll out of the bed so he could clean up in the bathroom. He followed shortly after, allowing Dean a moment of privacy before he came in and turned on the shower, waited until it started to steam and got in without a word. Dean went in after him.

Billy didn't linger, he rinsed himself without soap, not getting his hair wet and moving out of the way to let Dean under the water. Dean washed his body again with the thin bar of motel soap while Billy stood back aloofly and watched him. He got out just before Dean was done. There was only one towel which he used to dry himself quickly but not very well before handing it over. 

When Dean got out of the bathroom Billy was already picking up his clothes and pulling his jeans up his still damp legs. He wrapped the towel around his waist as he watched Billy get his stuff together, probably preparing to bounce out now that the night had already peaked. The sound of his keys jangling was like the death bell sounding for their tryst. “Taking off?”

Billy pulled on his jacket, still lacking a shirt. “I got stuff to do in the morning.” His expression wasn’t easy to read.

Dean nodded. He understood ‘stuff.’ But he was disappointed to find that he didn’t actually want Billy to leave. He didn’t just want Billy to want him, he wanted him to _like_ him. A hideously uncomfortable ordeal. Who knew if he’d ever see the bastard again. “I don’t want you to feel like you- you know- _have_ to go.” He tried to sound nonchalant about it, like he was cool with it either way. God knew he’d slipped out after a hook up more than once so he wasn’t going to be a hypocrite about it. Nope. He was _not_ going to act like a desperate bitch in front of this guy. 

“Um, yeah it’s cool,” Billy told him. Which probably meant he was going to go. But he didn’t do it fast enough, his expression was blank but his body language...maybe he was just teetering there undecided, unwilling to be the one to say it. What did Dean have to lose? Either way he’d probably never see Billy after this week, or even today, hell he’d only known him for a few hours there was still time to decide he couldn’t stand him. He wouldn’t know though if he let him go now. “I mean, I’d like you to stay... if you want...”

They were both stone cold sober now and Billy’s quiet look was torture until eventually, he nodded. Dean sat down on the end of the bed. The tension was back. It was like they hadn’t touched each other, like they hadn’t fucked or kissed. Like Dean hadn’t just used the words ‘until your cum leaks out my ass’ which was going to be mortifying to contemplate later. And it was ridiculous because his ass- his whole body actually, was still aching with it. “Hey, come here,” he said, regaining his confidence. Billy was too far away and it was awkward. He told Dean he’d sat down next to him on purpose, this game didn’t need to keep going.

Billy crossed the room slowly with the temerity of a child at Dean’s bequest. When he got to him Dean reached out and took his hands. Brought them up and brushed his lips over Billy’s knuckles. Two of those knuckles had partially healed splits in the skin that caught on his lip. They made him want to ask again about the bruises. He leaned his head back and looked up at Billy, finding Billy’s eyes soft. Dean gave him a half smile. His hands moved up Billy’s wrists, fingers lightly touching the sensitive skin of the underside of his wrists as they moved up his forearms. “You’ve got nice arms,” Dean told him. 

“Thanks,” Billy mumbled with a modesty Dean knew wasn’t his style. “When are you leaving Hawkins?” Billy asked before he pulled his hands back and got onto the bed, stretching out like a cat on his side. 

Dean hadn’t even considered it yet. “I don’t know. I’ve still got some people to see here.”

“Like what? Family?”

“More like, family acquaintances.” He felt too exposed now that Billy was dressed and he was in a towel. He took the towel and dried his hair one more time before he tossed it on a chair and put on his boxers but nothing more, because the thought of getting Billy back out of his clothes was more appealing than putting on his own. Billy sat up to take his bulky motorcycle jacket off again. Dean took the opportunity to push the blankets down so they could get into the sheets, and somewhere during this the bottle of tequila materialized next to Billy before he settled back down to sit cross legged there. He seemed comforted by its presence but didn't drink it right away. He also undid the top few buttons on his jeans so that they weren't digging into his abs, just folded open like leaves or flower petals against his tan skin.

“Are you really into that whole straight guy thing?” Dean asked with a playful smile.

“Nah. I’ve never done anything like that. You just looked so…”

“Straight?”

He looked Dean over. “Not really. But you looked like you could handle yourself. Something hot about fucking a guy that could give you a run for your money if you got in a fight.”

“You mean these submissive Hawkins boys aren’t doing it for you?”

Billy laughed.

“Or maybe they are…”

“Dean, if you only knew how dry it was here.”

“Alright, so how come you left San Diego?” He laid back with his arms under his head.

“Because my dad hates me.”

Dean raised his eyebrows.

“I mean, he’d rather drag his family into the woods to die then let the godless pagans of the west influence them.”

There were Pagans out here too, Dean wanted to say it. The real old timey variety. There wasn’t anyway to mention that without also informing him that their deities were roaming around as well looking for their next blood sacrifice, which had almost been Dean not that long ago. 

“He also remarried to some unfortunate woman who hasn’t realized what she’s done yet.” Billy’s gaze lingered down by the bottom of the comforter as he contemplated this. “There’s not a lot of places to run out here...”

“Wow, he sounds like a great guy,” Dean said sarcastically, disturbed by how heavy Billy’s mood had just become.

“Yep.” Billy broke the seal on the tequila bottle with a snap and a twist of his wrist.

“I’m sure he cares about you in his own way-”

Billy cut him off with just a look. Then he huffed. “At my... last high school,” Billy’s words were slow, like he was making up a campfire story on the spot, “there was this guy in the grade above me named Jimmy… good looking. Captain of the football team. Popular. His friend walked in on us one day in the locker room and told me if I didn't suck his dick too, he was gonna snitch.” Billy’s eyebrows did a little jump and he took a sip from the bottle.

Dean stared at him feeling a knot of anger forming at the thought of what Billy was telling him. “And? What happened?” 

“What happened was he left the locker room with one less tooth in his face than he’d walked in with. He also ripped the piercing out of my eyebrow.” Billy rubbed his middle finger over the edge of his eyebrow. “Learned my lesson with that. And it turned out Jimmy cared a lot more about sports than he did about me. Real _shocker,_ that one. I guess all those remarks about how much better I was than his girlfriend weren’t true.” He gave a little mockery of a half smile. “They told the coach I tried to force myself on Jimmy and he told me he didn’t let faggots on the team and when I tried to tell Neil- my dad- that they attacked me...he didn’t say shit.” Billy took another sip. “Wouldn’t have mattered either way. He was always looking for another reason to take it out on me. Still is.” 

Dean stared at him not understanding, and Billy stared back, not willing to give Dean a hint, but the tiny disconsolate jump of his eyebrow finally made Dean understand. His gaze moved to the livid bruise and his heart clenched in his chest. “Your dad did that to you? _What the hell. Why?_ ” The idea of it alone made him pissed.

Billy averted his eyes from Dean. “ _Why not,_ would be more accurate.”

Dean sat up and reached out without thinking about whether or not Billy would brush him off. He stroked the side of his face softly. “I thought my dad was shitty,” he said as his fingers brushed a curl out of Billy’s face that immediately fell back into the same spot. Billy didn’t move away or say anything, only squeezed his eyes shut and let Dean stroke his fingertips through the side of his hair. “I mean, my dad was a self-obsessed irresponsible bastard. He dragged us from one city to another often enough to give anyone road rash, left us half starving a lot of the time, didn’t come home for Christmas…” _that one always stung,_ “but he never hit me.” 

Billy’s rings clinked against the alcohol bottle as he clutched it like he was gonna go for another drink. Dean carefully took it from him and set it aside before he grabbed Billy gently by the arm and pulled him over. Billy went easily, letting Dean curl his arm around him and drag him into his side. “You deserve better than that.”

“You don’t know me, Dean,” Billy said with a quiet self loathing bitterness that Dean had heard come out of his own mouth before...

“Doesn't matter. No one deserves that. If I was your dad I would have knocked out the rest of Jimmy’s teeth- and if your dad had been any sort of a father so would he.”

Billy tipped his head to the side so he could see Dean’s face and laughed, a real laugh this time, that made his eyes crinkle. “If you were my dad this would be really awkward.” 

“I’m serious, fuck that guy. Neil sounds like a piece of shit too.” Billy was looking too good there, and without that defensiveness for the first time, his lips red and bright, and his hair messier now that his perfectly sculpted curls had been flattened and battered from their romp into something more like loose ringlets. Dean scooped up his chin and kissed him. When he moved back Billy looked at him like he was searching his face for something. Dean touched the thin line in Billy’s right eyebrow with the tip of his little finger. “I like it,” he said. “It’s cute.”

_“Cute?”_

“Sorry, I meant badass.” 

Billy snorted. “Dean, stop.” But he was still smiling- and Dean suddenly understood then that he had been handling Billy all _wrong_. The guy didn’t need someone to be cautious with him, he didn’t need another person to treat him like he was a bomb that might go off, all his precautions with making sure he didn’t smother Billy or scare him off by being too interested- what Billy actually wanted- or needed- was the certainty of someone who _wanted_ him without hesitation. Someone who didn’t have any doubts about whether Billy was _worth_ the risk. He didn’t need another person to be afraid of what or who he was. He responded gorgeously when Dean touched him without restraint. Everything about Billy’s exterior yelled _‘stay the fuck away from me,’_ but it was a big... fat... _lie_. Dean was willing to bet on it. He was willing to bet Billy handled himself like his car, screaming down the fast lane with the pedal to the floor, drifting, burning out, and if Dean could just get under the hood to see what made him run... he knew he could make it a smooth ride.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“Sorry, I was just thinking…”

“About?”

“Nothin,” Dean shrugged it off and ran his hands over Billy's chest, and Billy sank back into the pillows and let Dean admire his skin to his heart's content.

It was around midnight when Dean realized Billy had drifted off. He had been talking about something unimportant, telling him about the last time he’d been out to California, when he noticed Billy felt heavier beside him. He had expected Billy to outlast him but who knew what the rest of his day had entailed. So he turned the light out and tucked Billy against his chest- but not before seeing the welts on his back, at least a handful, likely from a belt. Probably what had made him uncomfortable earlier when Dean had touched him... it sent a renewed hot rash of anger through him and he touched Billy with an extra gentleness when he laid down next to him. Billy was warm and soft there, shirtless with his jeans still on.

When Dean woke up dawn was breaking, the sheets had been kicked down to the end of the bed, and Billy was gone.

Of course this realization hadn’t come immediately, or even gradually, but more as a series of disorienting levels of consciousness. The first of them being someone standing over his bed and saying his name.

“Goodmorning, sugar-thighs,” he mumbled into the bed.

“Uh, ew.” 

Dean went still. Definitely not sugar-thighs. _“Sam?”_

“Yeah…”

Dean twisted awkwardly, cracking open an eye to look at the bleary figure. “You're back?”

Sam let out an exasperated, and possibly defeated, exhale. “Yeah…”

Dean twisted to look at the other side of the bed this time. Empty. No Billy. The memories flooded back in. He forced himself to sit up. “I thought you were- you know, _done_.” 

Sam sat down on the bed gingerly, like he expected Dean to go off but also like he was committed to whatever he had apparently decided. “I was but I couldn’t get a hold of anyone. You weren’t responding, that Hopper guy wasn’t responding. And then…” he reached into his backpack and pulled out a newspaper. “This.”

It plopped onto the bed, a local news zine that covered the surrounding northern states. Dean read the title in the corner over a black and white picture of a pumpkin patch that looked like they were covered in rotting X’s: “Mysterious blight strikes local farms in Indiana-”

“And that’s not the only weird thing that’s been going on. Did you see that black out last night?”

“More like the opposite of seeing but yeah.”

“Yeah well it took out most of the town and there were reports of _freak_ lightning storms.”

“Well I definitely missed those…” Dean’s mind went straight back to Billy, grabbing him in the dark, silent, blackout, his unmentionable dirty comments zinging through Dean’s brain, too fresh in his mind still to feel comfortable thinking about while sitting near Sam. Dean got out of bed. He walked to the bathroom and pushed the door open just a tiny bit curiously, just on the off chance however unlikely…

Nothing. No boots, no clothes, no beautiful blue eyed men. As Dean was looking around the room taking in the lack of any sign of Billy- except for the mostly full bottle of tequila and faint smell of cigarettes- Sam was doing similar.

“Did you-” he looked at one side of the room and then the other, “bring someone back last night?”

Dean cycled through a series of facial expressions, ranging from innocence to confusion and settling on _perhaps_. “Why would you think that?”

“Well for one it smells like a cheap hooker’s wardrobe in here-”

_“Hey!”_

“And two, there’s like...enough alcohol in here to fuel a small frat party. It’s a bit much _even_ for _you_.”

“Alright, so maybe I…” Dean waved a hand out, “had _company_.”

Sam looked at him with more horror than Dean thought was fair. “And you…” Sam looked at the bed, “uhg, Dean!” He sprang up. “I was gone like half a day!”

“Excuse me for being time efficient and irresistible.”

Sam was still making a face. 

“What about this- this Hopper guy?”

“Um, I don’t know. Police station says they haven’t seen him in three days”

“Great,” Dean grumbled. “We got a missing cop and bunch of haunted pumpkins. Alright, before anything else- coffee, and -god willing- scrambled eggs.” He groaned as his stomach did a little turn, exhibiting a bout of acidic death that could only be brought on by sweating out all your fluids and dehydrating yourself with booze at the same time.

“You should probably take a shower first because…”

Dean glared at him.

“Cheap hookers, Dean.” 

“You don’t know how to appreciate the finer things in life, Sam.”

“If the finer things are hair spray and cigarettes I think I’m good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got so soft at the end I don't know what happened. I hadn't intended to write anything like "fucking a straight guy kink" but this whole thing has just gotten away from me. I got to the end of this chapter and was like: Jeezuz this wasn't how any of this was suppose to happen but here we are I guess I'm using it? Trying to build up the sexy romance in this fast so that it hurts EVEN MORE later.


	3. Running on Fumes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy + Angst

The birds were starting to chirp when Billy got home. He parked on the street instead of next to the house hoping the sound of the car wouldn’t wake anyone inside. He was almost to his room when a voice accosted him out of thin air.

“You smell gross,” Max said as he crept into the hallway.

She’d scared the shit out of him. He didn’t allow her to see it. “You look gross,” Billy retorted childishly. “Why the hell are you even awake it’s five in the fuckin’ morning.” 

“Had to pee.” She squinted at him in the gray dawn light that managed to reach the hallway. “Where were you?” 

“None of your damn business. Go to bed. I have to take you to school in like two hours. I don’t wanna have to deal with your whining about it.” 

“Uh _hello_ , I’m _always_ up before you _and_ I don’t whine.” 

He ignored her, pushed into his room, and closed the door more softly than he felt like doing then collapsed onto his cold hard bed with his clothes on and thought about Dean. Probably still asleep in those warm ugly motel sheets. His chest hurt thinking about it. He was delirious, sleep deprived, slightly hung over, not sure what he was feeling or why it seemed to hurt. 

Another year- maybe even sooner- and he could get out of here, be on the road like Dean was. He wouldn’t have to answer to anyone, maybe even travel with someone like Dean... that was hoping for an awful lot, and also the last thing he wanted was to shackle himself to someone else once he got loose, someone who was gonna slow him down and get in his way, try and control him. He didn’t like being controlled. 

He needed to try and sleep at least a little longer. He would deal with his feelings in the morning.

It turned out ‘dealing with his feelings’ translated roughly to: ‘avoiding them as hard as possible.’ And unfortunately sitting in a chair all day wasn’t the easiest way to avoid thinking about your problems, even with a swarm of writhing screaming children splashing around that he had already had plenty of practice tuning out.

Billy sat in the lifeguard chair staring into the undulating waves of light in the blue pool and beat himself over the head for the hundredth time that day with the memory of kissing Dean right before, technically during, his orgasm. Why’d he have to fucking kiss him? Why couldn’t he have just fucked him from behind like any normal gay asshole would have? He was angry about that, but he was also angry that he had to finally accept that he was gay. Village People level gay. With a big fucking G. After last night he couldn’t even lie to himself.

He fidgeted in his seat. He couldn’t stop rewinding the moments in his head and playing them over and over. It wasn’t even the sexy ones ironically; Dean’s soft lips across his knuckles had lodged itself in his memory bank for all eternity apparently- and it didn’t help that he was getting these residual- post sex- boners now whenever his dick recalled what he’d done last night. Real fuckin’ convenient in his lifeguard uniform. Even now his cock was filling out a little in his swim shorts. Not full on wood fortunately, just enough to be uncomfortable and distracting. He left work that afternoon disgruntled and annoyingly horny. 

He wasn’t going to try to see Dean again. He didn’t know how he could even if he wanted to. There was a conflict of feelings inside him having their own little domestic war, feelings that shouldn’t have been in the same room together but had invited themselves in nonetheless, and now there was trouble. Because men...men weren’t there for _feelings_. Boys were just for entertainment, a quick escape, a distraction, a means to one tiny little drawn out end. He wasn’t allowed to have feelings about them.

Girls were difficult too, because for some reason he couldn’t make himself feel anything at all when he was around them. They were supposed to be the ones he got some sort of emotional connection with, some sort of comfort out of when all was said in done, but he couldn’t. He didn't. He could never get them to care. Could never say the right thing or make himself connect. Older women gave him at least a little more, it was easier to play the _good boy_ around them, to please them, to win their approval. They already saw in him what they wanted to; a charming, handsome, young man, and so it was simple to make them think he was not just some worthless piece of shit, if only for a little bit.

With girls his age, it always went bad. Young women generally could tell he wasn’t winning Hawkin’s most charming bachelor award anytime soon _._ They were into him for the _opposite_ reason usually. The last girl he’d tried to date lasted two weeks before she got upset at him being “distant,” for not talking enough, for not holding her hand, not making her feel special enough, and for being a “jerk.” Finally she had slapped him across the face in his own car. He had probably deserved it. But-

he had almost hit her back. 

_Hadn’t_.

But _almost_. He had still been feeling Neil’s episode from the night before and the shock of the girl striking him, even though it wasn’t very hard, had caught him off guard badly. He had lashed out on impulse raising his fist to backhand her, and she’d looked at him _horrified_. The look in her eyes was still clear in his memory and it made him feel sick to recall it. 

He _didn’t_ hit her. But he stopped talking to her immediately after that night. It had been too close a call. It had freaked him out. And she didn’t try to stop him or talk to him when they passed each other after that either. She had probably told her friends he was a psycho, and maybe she was right. 

Dean was older than Billy, he didn’t know how much, but at least a bit. He was also a man. Older men? Billy had no idea what to do with them. Just tried to stay the fuck away from them for the most part. If he was attracted to them at all he killed the feeling immediately. Unfortunately Dean was probably the most attractive thing to walk into Hawkin’s in a decade and he’d been so persuasive, and Billy was a weak fucking shit. He hadn’t even let himself believe Dean was attracted to him until Dean had literally kissed him. He knew there had to be some consequence to screwing around with a guy like that, even though it had been mind blowing. Satisfying? _Yeah,_ it had been satisfying...and the way Dean had looked at him, like he _liked_ Billy, like he wanted him there even after the sex. No one had ever touched him softly like that for no reason- especially not a man. There had to be a reason...and he didn’t intend to find out. Dean would be history in a few days. But he didn’t know where that left him? Drifting and lonely, going to his stupid job while looking forward to nothing, bothering Harrington as a side gig whenever he came across him, because what was his problem anyway? The shithead refused to even say _hello_ to him. Yeah he’d practically beat him senseless that one time but Billy had been _nice_ before then, barely insulted him at practice- compared to the way most guys shit talked back and forth. Harrington with his dumb fucking preppy hair and his dumb twiggy girlfriend, and his dumb twiggy legs that he brought to the pool sometimes. Thought he was so much better than Billy didn’t he? Anyway, fuck that guy... 

Shit, it had been so long since Billy had gotten laid- before Dean that was. Dean had been a godsend. But that was it. A temporary deluge in the hot dry desert of Billy’s sex life, the sort of monsoon that only came around once in a lifetime. Now that he had all but sworn off girls his age getting laid was more of a chore than it had any right to be when he looked like he did. 

Guys his age were scared shitless of letting anyone know they were into dick unless they were drunk, which meant that the only time he got any action was when everyone was too fucked up to be able to remember it. 

And then there was Karen. Because why not? She was nice and pretty and made him feel like he had way more control over his life than he actually did, because _she_ seemed to think he did and so he could pretend when she looked at him...he managed to smile at her before he left the pool even though he didn’t feel like smiling at anything. He’d work on that at some point but right now he just wanted to not think about anything, especially Dean. He was probably going to just go get drunk and he wasn’t going to think about slightly older men with green eyes and full lips who had deep provocative voices and led secretive interesting lives in which they took men back to their rooms for all kinds of lurid and fantastic carnal thrills...

Yeah, this was going to be one hell of a week to get through...


	4. The General Store

“This article is from last year.” Dean flipped the newspaper over in his lap.

“Yeah, I know but I still think it’s relevant,” Sam said.

“Yeah totally, I just wonder what else is happening now if this has been going on that long.” Dean leaned his head back against the seat. He had made Sam drive so he could stuff some sort of bagel sandwich into his face and space out with a pair of sunglasses on. “Is this all you dug up at the library?”

“Uh, no actually that’s just where I stopped.”

“We should check the rest of the newspapers from last year, see if there’s any other weird stories.”

“Yeah that’s what I was thinking.”

“Where’s this pumpkin patch thing?” Dean said to himself as he examined the newspaper again.

“Doesn’t say. Just gives the name of the farm.”

“It probably isn’t even there anymore,” Dean muttered. “You wanna hit up the sheriff's office first or the stacks?” They were going to end up at the library one way or another, Dean simply couldn’t avoid it.

“Don’t you think it would be better if we knew what to ask about before we interrogated the local law enforcement?” Sam looked over at his brother’s near prone form.

“Yeah you’re probably right. We should check the papers first.” 

They pulled up to the tall brick building that housed the downtown Hawkin’s library. Sam had already been here and easily found his way back. It took them a while inside the quiet dust mottled back room of the archives to find what they were looking for, but the press had not been modest when it came to embellishment and speculation. There were all kinds of sensational front page articles about demon sightings, possessed children, and strange paranormal occurrences.

“There used to be more,” a dark haired woman with a name tag that said Marissa told them when they had asked her for assistance.“But late last year some sort of organization came in and removed a bunch of our records. They said it was for ‘political efficacy’ or some poppycock nonsense.” She lowered her voice even more, “They took everything with the word _Russian_ on it, as far as I can tell. Pretty fishy if you ask me.”

The boys looked at each other puzzled after she left them. 

“What do you think that’s about?” Sam asked. 

“Beats me. I mean, _Russians_? Not exactly our territory.”

“Could be unrelated.”

"Maybe, maybe not."

As usual, it wasn’t the more reputable news sources that proved helpful but the less reputable ones, the magazines publishing for attention and not so much for accuracy.

“We should go see this Beyer’s kid,” Dean said after they’d been sifting through mundane tabloids for a few hours. “He seems to be the epicenter of all the crazy.”

“I have a feeling their family isn't going to be overly receptive to us sniffing around. They’ve been ostracized by the town.” Sam was sitting in a small rotating desk chair that made him look too large.

Dean rubbed his eyes, which were starting to sting from staring too long at screens and blurry texts. “Alright you know what...” he took the slim stack of newspapers he had sorted and put aside and shoved them into his military style jacket.

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam said in shock. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m getting tired of being here is what I’m doing. No one else gives a rat’s ass about these. Come on let’s go back to the motel. Or better yet let's go question some of these people in these crapshot stories.”

Sam let out a small huff and looked around paranoid but got up and followed Dean out. Their librarian was away from the desk as they passed it. No one stopped them or even looked their way. 

“This can’t all be true,” Sam said once they were outside. “This stuff reads like a sci-fi magazine.”

“We’re gonna have to sift through the crap. Do we know if the Beyers are still in town?”

“I don’t think Ms.Beyers is going to be very pleased to have us snooping around." 

“No one ever is! -until, of course, we save their ass."

“Dean, her son went _missing_.”

Dean waited for him to make some sort of point.

“And if what those papers say is true her significant other at the time died. And not in a nice way.”

“We’re just going to have to be official about it. You got your badge with you?”

Sam gave him a tried look.

Dean leaned forward and pulled out a pouch from the dash containing a reasonably believable yet false FBI badge.

“There’s something else I came across when I was on my own,” Sam said, taking out a piece of paper he had written on, “might be worth checking. A guy named Murray Bauman, worked as a private investigator on the disappearance of a girl who went missing last year. There were multiple claims she was...sucked into a swimming pool and transported to another world...understandably the guy is considered a conspiracy theorist nowadays although he used to work for the Chicago Times as a reputable journalist.”

“Was she?”

“Huh?”

“Was the chick actually sucked into a swimming pool?”

“Uhh, I don’t know they found her body somewhere else -allegedly, but it wasn’t released to the public.” 

“Hmm.” Dean was behind the wheel, not entirely sure where he was going, but he figured the police department had to be somewhere downtown.

“What does this all even add up to? I mean, you got, monsters-”

“Allegedly.”

“Allegedly. Freak lightning storms, missing kids, and... Russian spies? I gotta be honest, I have no idea where this is going.”

“What if it’s like, you know, that one thing that was making everyone think they saw crazy stuff but it was just some weird telepathic kid the whole time... _or_ , maybe the people here need to stop drinking the water-” Dean looked up just in time to see the one person he had been trying not to think of all day.

Standing on the corner by the large general store- and having definitely seen Dean’s car- Billy watched the Impala roll by with a sly look and then pretend he hadn’t seen it.

Dean's heart leapt so hard he almost hit the breaks but managed to ease himself into a slow turn onto the next street. “We should grab some supplies before we go back,” he said suddenly- and calmly- or attempted what he hoped was a show of _relaxed_ _spontaneity_. 

Sam looked up a little confused but didn’t question it.“Okay.” 

Dean parked on the side of the street, curt and smooth. “I’ll be right back.” He was really hoping Sam wasn’t going to try and come with him. 

“Um-”

He got out and closed the door before Sam could even suggest it and walked around the corner and down the street past a Radio Shack. Billy was still there, in what looked like work out clothes, gym shorts and a white sleeveless muscle tank, with a full paper bag under his arm. He was undoubtedly aware of Dean and what Dean’s intention was. He caught his eye, but the contact was a brief flirtation, and he looked away with a flutter of self conscious lashes and smoked his cigarette, on brand. His car was parked on the street nearby. 

Billy was by all accounts what should have passed for a popular guy, despite his hostility, he should have at least attracted cronies that deferred to him in a place like this. And yet here he was on a Saturday afternoon, alone, no girlfriend, no partners in crime, standing on the side of the street next to the stop sign, smoking- as usual, and looking unapproachable. Maybe Dean had been right about the soft Hawkins boys not being able to handle him. 

Dean slowed as he got close to the door of the general store. 

Billy moved back and leaned against the brick wall, putting one foot up against it like he had outside the bar. He was wearing sneakers, which for some reason made Dean’s heart do some sort of awful gymnastics in his chest. He gave Dean another fleeting glance, this time it looked very amused. The eye contact was so intense Dean felt like the entire world must have seen them looking at each other but there was hardly anyone around and absolutely no one was paying attention to them.

After what felt like ages he got to the front door of the shop and went inside with a treacle like slowness. Billy was only a few feet away. Neither one of them said a thing. But Dean could see Billy’s smirk at the corner of his mouth. 

The store was clearly a local independent shop. It smelled vaguely like ant stakes and sawdust, or whatever it was he couldn’t identify. There was a petite dark haired woman working. She welcomed him when he went in and he gave her a polite nod before trying to decide what he was supposed to be here for. 

After a few seconds he heard the door open and tried not to look over his shoulder as someone walked in and the footsteps grew closer. He wandered down through the shelves and spared a glance for the woman, she wasn’t paying attention to him, she was busy organizing a shelf on the other side of the store with her back turned. He glanced next at the man standing dangerously close to him now, the smell of nicotine faint on the air. 

“I see you’re still in town,” Billy said smoothly. 

“Seems like.” Dean allowed himself to look over at him. “Just picking up some, uh, supplies.” He looked around. Oil for his car? Fuck it, he had been meaning to buy some anyway. He grabbed one of the yellow containers in front of him.

Billy raised an eyebrow. The next words from his mouth were thick with irrefutable innuendo. “Yeah, you don't wanna run out of oil.”

Dean could not stop himself from staring at Billy in open mouthed disbelief.

Billy cast a very easy look over at the clerk to see that her back was still turned and leaned in towards Dean. _“You’re blushing,”_ he whispered. 

Dean didn’t think he had ever felt this peculiar mixture of shame, affection, and burning desire to strangle someone, but the idea of strangling Billy also made him feel something else. He cleared his throat. 

The silence dragged on as Billy watched him, smile still in place as his tongue playing with a tooth pick that had materialized at the corner of his lips, and the tension was almost too much to handle. There was no music playing in the store. No one talking. Dean was expecting Sam to come waltzing in any second and Billy perhaps to just walk away. He'd made the decision to go after Billy so fast he hadn’t considered _why_ , or to what end. Billy rescued him from his actions finally with his next sentence. “I might be at the bar later,“ he told Dean. “Maybe I’ll see you.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, and reminded himself that _he_ was supposed to be the one playing seductive right now, not standing there like a mute virgin. “Wouldn’t be that strange if we ran into each other I guess.”

Billy took the tooth pick out of his mouth long enough to give Dean a grin and another once over with his bedroom eyes before he walked away.

Dean watched him leave. And groaned. Quietly. He didn’t think he would have been able to turn his back on Billy and walk off like Billy had just done. He felt foolish. Literally chasing after some guy he had just met. This wasn’t his style. What if Billy hadn’t wanted anything to do with him? He did, apparently, but what if he hadn’t? No sense in worrying about that now. Now that Billy had completely unbalanced him. But those thighs? Dean shook it off and looked around. He had to act like he had come in here for a reason. Fortunately there were plenty of useful things here. He _did_ in fact need the motor oil. He grabbed a pack of lighters as well and some basic medical supplies, and went to the register. 

The register was an old vintage piece that still had all it's brass push buttons. It matched the feel of the place.

“Sorry, be right there,” the short woman in a blue apron called to him. She had a voice that sounded older than she looked. 

Sam came in at that moment and made his way over to Dean. He stared at Dean’s purchase a little judgmentally, but only for a second.

The woman working gave them what seemed to be a genuinely nice smile. Dean was still distracted and a little jittery, fortunately Sam didn't notice. He was already busy noticing the name tag on the woman behind the counter.

“Joyce…” 

She looked up at him with large dark eyes, reminding him of a watchful deer.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Joyce _Beyers_ would you?”

Her expression became suddenly caged and apprehensive. “Why do you ask?”

Sam faltered and looked to Dean.

Dean understood with surprise and forced himself into playing his role. He cleared his throat. “We didn’t expect to find you here,” Dean told her. “I’m-” he went to fish out his FBI badge and realized it was in the car. “Sorry I left my badge in the car. I’m with the FBI, I'm investigating the power outages that have been happening recently.”

“The FBI?” She said.

“We think they’re connected to something that happened last year,” Sam told her.

“A lot of things happened last year,” she all but muttered. She sounded like someone who hadn’t been taken seriously for a long time. The bitterness was there, but there was also a tenaciousness. She wasn’t going to be swayed from her beliefs.

“I know this probably isn’t a great time to ask you questions but, um, your family experienced some distressing events last year…” Dean said, “my partner and I think that the cause of previous events may still be affecting the town.” It didn’t sound convincing to his ears but he wasn’t sure what they were supposed to be fishing for.

Her eyes flashed with interest. She was appraising him. Deciding if he was being serious with her or not. 

He didn’t see any reason to try and lead her on, he was just going to be frank. She clearly already knew something was weird. “I know that you’ve probably been told it’s nothing, or that it’s just your imagination, or whatever the police told you before, but I can assure you there’s something else going on here. Something strange.”

“Ms.Beyers," Sam cut in, "do you know of any other kids that have gone missing over the last year?” Sam asked.

"Is someone else missing?" She asked.

"We're not sure," Sam said.

"We're just trying to gather as much information as we can," Dean told her. 

"I already gave the police all the information I had."

"I think..." Dean said carefully, "You'll find us a little more open minded than the police."

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at the two men who practically towered over her. She squinted at them with a challenging expression. “...Do you believe in monsters?” 

A smile curled at Dean's lips.


	5. How Do I Get You Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namely a lot of action. Every definition of the word...

As soon as they got to the motel Sam took out the large, gray, brick-like device they used usually for tracking down ghosts. “If what Ms. Beyers said about the magnets was true, maybe this can help us.”

“If it’s true then wouldn’t an EMF detector be completely useless?” 

“It’s worth a shot right?” 

“She said she could hear her son through the radio.”

“Yeah I've seen Poltergeist too,” Dean said unimpressed.

“So you don’t think she was telling the truth?” Sam said in surprise.

“I think she thinks she was telling the truth.”

Sam sat on one of the modest sized beds with his papers spread out and looked pensive.

“Look,” Dean said, “We’ll go to that lab where the attack happened tomorrow morning and check it out.”

“Why not tonight?”

Dean sucked in a deep breath. “ _Because_. It’ll be dark soon-” 

“-Not for like, at least another hour or two-”

“-and we can scope the place out better in the daytime. Besides, we already did a lot today.” Dean pursed his lips and waited for Sam to accept this, which he wasn’t going to- of course. But Dean tried. He let it ride and went to go change his clothes. He tossed his bag on the empty bed and dug through it, weighing his options. “Also,” he said as if he could just slide it under the rug, “I kind of have something I gotta do.”

Of course Sam wasn’t going to be so easily misdirected. “You’re leaving?” The tone of his voice expressed a strong disapproval, as if Dean was shirking his duties.

“All work and no play Sammy,” he said knowing Sam was all too familiar with the Shining reference.

“Dude, we just got here.”

“Actually, I’ve been here longer than you, technically-”

“Oh like, you mean those few hours you spent getting wasted and sleeping around? Because that was obviously productive.”

The memory of Billy’s naked body flashed before Dean’s eyes and Dean smiled. “ _Yes,_ yes it was.”

Sam scoffed. “What exactly do you have to do that’s more important than working a case?” He was leaning over with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. His long hair was pushed back behind his ears. 

“Nothin.” Dean shrugged. “I just made plans when I thought you weren’t going to be around.”

Sam finally dropped his scrutinizing gaze. 

“It’s just this thing, uh, there’s a game on. I was kind of planning on watching it.”

“A _game_? Like, sports?” Sam laughed.

Dean gave a half nod.

“Dean, since when do you care about sports?”

“Since two days ago- I’m allowed to have hobbies!”

“Yeah. Sure,” Sam said with another small sarcastic laugh.

“Besides it’s a good opportunity to ask around, schmooze with the locals, have a few drinks...” Dean pulled out a different pair of jeans, passed up the plain black t-shirts and decided on his white sleeveless muscle tank before he slipped into the bathroom to take a quick shower. 

“Just page me if you’re going to be gone later than midnight,” Sam said when Dean was finally headed out the door and Sam was now fully convinced that Dean was off to see some woman probably.

 _“Yeeess,_ mom _.”_ Dean closed the door behind him.

He meandered out into the warm July evening, it was cooling down yet still seventy something degrees. He stopped to dip into the back of his car for a black leather jacket that he seldom wore because his larger brown one was more practical, roomier, had more pockets- the black one was a little too form fitting for his lifestyle but he kept it nonetheless because he liked the way it showed off his waist and his shoulders.

The bar was only a few minutes away from the motel. He decided to leave the car and walk. It was still early. He didn’t want to be too over eager, Billy probably wasn’t there yet, assuming he was going to show like he had insinuated. 

The evening was pleasant, no cars on the road, but that seemed to be the norm for Hawkins. Small town, small population. The soft gravel next to the street crunched under his boots as he rounded the corner of the hedges along the back road and was graced with the beautiful sight of the swimming pool blue Camaro parked in the corner of the unpaved lot. This was the last bar he had expected to come back to after their less than pleasant send off but if he was anxious about that it got lost in the feeling of anticipation that had his heart speeding up.

As Dean got to the front porch of the bar Billy walked out just then, right on time, beer in hand. His expression was caught momentarily unguarded before he did that thing where he tried to act cool and pretend like he wasn’t about to smile. He had looked surprised, like maybe he hadn't actually expected Dean to show.

Billy looked “dolled up,” as much as any guy ever was, he had done his hair; it looked completely different than it had when he had seen him earlier. He looked like something from a gay seventies porno, Dean felt madly guilty for thinking it, only because he had felt so guilty at the time for actually watching them. The tight faded jeans, a navy blue button up shirt that left a generous helping of skin exposed at the top, a different earring this time, the boots...he was some sort of preface to a Tom of Finland fantasy. 

Looking at Billy now he felt like he should have tried somehow to dress sexier himself. He felt a little too casual with his thin flannel shirt tied around his waist.

He wasn’t sure if the heady cast to Billy’s eyes was inebriation or simply lust but the way he looked Dean up and down again sent a jolt straight to Dean’s groin and he had to break eye contact, walking a little more quickly to close the distance. “Have you been here long?” he asked, as if they were just friends meeting up. He stepped up onto the small front porch, the boards creaked under him.

“Just got here,” Billy said, taking a sip from the plastic cup and leaning against one of the posts that connected to the roof. “Thanks for the drink, by the way.”

Dean raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“The bar tender didn’t kick me out so I’m assuming you paid last time.”

“Guilty as charged.” 

Billy’s eyes traveled from Dean’s lips to his eyes and back again. They were standing dangerously close. “I’d kiss you right now,” Dean whispered with velvet in his voice, “but I think they still hang people for that sort of thing around here.”

“We should go somewhere no one will see us then,” Billy said.

Dean could smell the familiar cologne again, Yves St Lauren, or whatever. Something heady, musky, and floral at the same time. 

“Help me finish this beer,” Billy said.

Dean took the plastic cup and downed half of it in an experienced chug.

Billy grinned and finished off the rest in one deadly swig that allowed Dean to stare at his throat…all that skin that led down towards more skin. His shirt was thin and hung soft and loose against his body. When he moved the shirt moved and shifted and beckoned him to look closer- look lower, maybe take a peek inside.

“All set,” Billy said as he chucked the cup into the bushes. 

Dean took one more step nearer. “It’s still early…” he said, not sure what he was suggesting.

Billy licked his lips and stared at Dean with intentional restraint.

Dean suddenly felt a little masochistic. “There’s no need to rush things. Why don’t we have one more drink?” 

“...Yeah,” Billy rose to the challenge, “sure, if you want.” 

They passed the threshold of the bar and went inside the dark room. Dean ordered two shots. The bartender, a man Dean was coming to consider as very stoic, gave them a nod but didn’t speak.

Billy looked over at the pool tables and Dean followed his gaze. “You think you can redeem yourself?” he asked.

Billy sighed. “Probably not. But I’d be willing to try if you're going to bend over the table again,” he whispered.

Dean felt heat rising, to... his face? Maybe. Maybe it was just the alcohol. He recalled the earlier comment about blushing and tried to turn enough that Billy wasn’t looking directly at him...

“To hell with it. I feel like my lucks been pretty good,” Billy said.

Dean saw his tongue against his teeth when he said the word _luck_ and he wanted to drag him out of the bar right then, wondering why he had done this to himself.

Fueled by enthusiasm and competition Billy downed his shot in one go, and let Dean order them seconds, this time with soda water to slow things down a little. He got to the pool table first and gave Dean the pleasure of watching him set it up. Now that they knew what they were really doing here there was no being coy...there was only trying to make sure no one else saw it. The bar was pretty empty this time, only a few other men in one corner spoke quietly together, complaining about how the job market in town was going to hell thanks to the new mall.

“You break this time,” Dean said.

Billy canted an eyebrow and leaned over, the stick sliding through his fingers. He made his first shot, missed the second, and then Dean took his turn and made two balls in at once. Billy said nothing this time around, didn’t even sigh, but he gave Dean a wicked side eye. 

And Dean decided he was going to let Billy win. He didn’t care about losing if Billy flashed that fierce smile at him. He was modest about it, as the game ran out, but when Billy licked his lips and looked up at Dean before he sank the eight ball with three of Dean’s still on the table Dean felt like he _had_ won. Billy came around to Dean’s side and leaned against the table crossing his arms, trapping the pool stick against his chest. “So uh, remind me, what was my prize supposed to be?”

“Um…how about, you get to decide whether we go another round..or leave this place _right now.”_

He was hoping, expecting Billy to let them leave, but he had underestimated him. Billy’s smile was evil when he turned to set up the table again, his hip brushing against the side of Dean’s.

Dean sighed. 

And the smug sense of self satisfaction radiated across Billy’s face all the way to the curling ends of his hair.

And Dean...he let him take that first shot-

and then-

he took a good look at the spread in front of him, set himself up…

and cleaned the table in one fell swoop.

It took six consecutive shots. The sound of the balls ricocheting off one another filled the air over the sound of muddled blues. He didn’t stop and he didn’t look up. He said “Corner left pocket” and he jumped the eight ball over the red seven and it was over.

Finally he looked up at Billy. 

Billy was leaning with his hands behind him on a table and looking at the green felt in stunned silence. He had a strong poker face but Dean could see he was holding his breath, eventually he drew it in and his expression fluttered. He said, deadpan, “Wow. I’m hard right now.” 

Dean laughed. “Mission accomplished, lets go.”

They left the pool table as it was and made for the door. The door had been propped open with a wooden wedge and as they were trying to exit a man about their age, maybe older, in his late twenties, shoulder checked Billy coming in. He did it unapologetically. And gave Billy a mean look as he passed.

“Watch where you’re going,” Billy prickled automatically.

“Oh look! It’s our little friends from the other day,” said the next man extravagantly as he walked in. He was in a gray oversized business suit. His hair was a colorless blonde. He was one of the men from the other day who had told them this wasn’t a gay bar. Dean recognized him now as the blond man who had been working at the Hawkin’s Post when he and Sam had stopped by to get an update on the power outs that morning. Small town. He must have just gotten off of work.

“Isn’t this cute,” he said like it was anything but. His eyes landed on Dean, but apparently he hadn’t been paying attention because he didn’t seem to realize this was their second encounter of the day. He had been too busy pestering their young secretary in the office while Dean and Sam were there.

Billy and Dean looked at each other, there was an unspoken understanding between them. 

“You people come up here from the city and just infest the place, like rats. Pretty soon nowhere will be safe,” even as the words leaked out of his mouth he smiled. He had a cheap bizarre smile that he probably wore all the time regardless of what emotion was harbored behind it. He had two younger guys with him this time instead of the loud women with the big hair, the one who had run into Billy stood nearby and was half in the door making it impossible to leave. The guy by the door muttered what sounded like “fucken queers.” But neither Billy nor Dean bothered to look at him.

“I thought we told you boys this isn’t your kind of place last time.”

“What are you gonna do about it, old man?” Billy said so loudly everyone in the bar looked over. 

Dean thought the strangers were too sober at the moment to try and start a fight.

Billy clearly had no such reservations. The alcohol was hot in his veins, making him itch for it. 

The man in the suit glanced at his companions, seemingly believing they were his guard wall.

“ _Move_ ,” Dean told the guy in the doorway.

“Make me,” he said in a mocking tone as he leaned against the door frame.

“Alright.” 

And that was really where the row started but they hadn’t _technically_ started it. Not verbally anyway. 

The guy in the doorway was suddenly on his back on the porch. Dean was standing over him. Billy walked out behind him. Dean wasn’t really planning on fighting but the other guy who had first walked in came up and tried to throw a headlock around Billy from behind that Billy ducked away from without much trouble and Dean simply punched the guy in the face before Billy could stand and turn on his attacker. 

It was almost anticlimactic. Neither one of the men on the floor got up right away and it looked pretty certain that the one Dean had just punched was out cold.

Billy looked like he was going to make a smart ass comment but the look in Dean’s eyes made him hold on to it. Dean’s gaze followed the white haired man as he retreated to the bar, he was laughing nervously as if this was all some sort of a joke he was trying to play off, but also putting as much space between him and them as he could. 

They could have left then, they could have just walked out, that could have been the end of it.

But Dean was pissed.

Sure he was used to people fucking with him, bigger, scarier people than this guy. But this guy was clearly at home harassing whoever he wanted. His under aged secretary, for instance, probably anyone he thought looked even a little gay. Dean followed him with slow, confident, threatening steps.

The man backed into one of the stools and stumbled down hard onto it. He chuckled nervously again, “This has been one helluva a trip, eh? How about I buy you guys a drink and we call it even? No hard feelings!” He smiled his wormy smile. “Uh, get these boys another round, please.” 

The bartender, still silent as the grave eyed them all and unhurriedly poured out two more shots. 

Billy was close behind Dean, silent and serious, Dean was aware that he had followed him. Dean took one of the shot glasses off the counter and passed it to him. He took the other while his eyes still had the man pinned to his stool and tossed it back. He set the small glass down, the other followed suit and they walked out without another word. Leaving the man in the suit to sweat.

The guy who had been thrown on the porch had crawled away to a seat nearby and his eyes followed them with hot resentment as they made their way across the lot.

“I left my car at the motel,” Dean said.

“We’ll take mine.”

They got onto the road and exchanged a few darting glances back and forth. Dean was flushed and bright eyed, Billy exhilarated, his heart was still beating fast and he was a little shaky but it was different from the creeping silent fear he was familiar with, of not being able to fight back- or being afraid to fight back. This was excitement and a little insanity. If he hadn’t known Dean before he would have wanted him now just as bad. Judas Priest screamed over the speakers as they tore down the highway. 

“Man, you really knocked that guy on his ass.”

“Honesty, I didn’t actually mean to knock him out.”

“Would you have done that if we hadn’t met before?” Billy asked, having to shout a little over the stereo. His phrasing echoing reminiscence of words spoken in the motel room the other night; _did you sit down next to me on purpose?_

“Probably even sooner,” Dean said.

Billy grinned at him.

“Would you have been impressed?” Dean asked.

“I’d be flattered…” he gave Dean a teasing glance from the corner of his eye, " _maybe._ ”

“Are you still playing hard to get?” Dean leaned closer so he didn’t have to shout. “What do I have to do?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“I love a challenge.”

“I noticed.”

The evening was transforming into night. A violent orange mimosa sunset was streaking the sky with bruised swaths of purple. The air was muggy but the breeze was invigorating from the speed of the car.

Billy took a hard left onto a dirt road that ran along a cornfield and kept going. It wasn’t a path made for cars, probably tractors and trucks but the Camaro handled it alright although the ride was a little rough. 

“There’s a place down here I’ve parked before no one ever goes,” Billy told him.

Dean shut the music off and the stillness outside engulfed them. 

Billy went the extra mile, figuratively, and found an even more secluded path that headed directly to the field. When he parked, the car was out of sight completely unless someone came down this way but there were no structures or signs of human activity anywhere nearby. 

Dean reached over as soon as he cut the engine, before Billy could get his seat belt off- before he could realize he had never even put it on- Dean’s hands were on his neck, he was fighting against his own seat belt to get to Billy’s mouth. He finally got the clip out and his mouth accosted Billy, his right hand slid up Billy’s leg nearest to him, Billy felt the hot pressure against his upper thigh, too high up, not high enough, while Dean’s other hand was on the back of Billy's neck as he kissed him.

Billy reached over Dean and pulled a lever without warning that sent Dean’s seat back and then climbed over the center armrest and into Dean’s lap.

He grabbed the front of Dean’s jackets until the worn leather made a noise beneath his fists and licked a long hot stripe up the side of Dean’s neck, tasting the salt on his skin and the sharp rasp of the stubble on his jaw even though he had probably shaved that morning. Dean leaned back and slid his hands under Billy’s shirt closing his eyes when he felt his skin.

“God damn you’re hot,” Billy said in a silky, drunken voice. “What do I even do with you?”

“Anything you want,” Dean purred. 

Billy’s thighs were on the outside of Dean’s legs but the car was far too small for them to get comfortable. He leaned over and whispered in Dean’s ear. “Don’t be gentle with me.”

It took a few seconds for the words to penetrate Dean’s haze of lust, but once they did he wrestled off his jacket and threw it into the backseat before wrapping his arms around Billy's lower back in a vice grip, pulling him hard against his lap as they made out, before finally deciding to trade places and push Billy down underneath him. Billy’s thighs were nearly around his hips. His back was pressed into the center console. Nothing about it was comfortable but they were both too horny to care.

“Get out,” Billy said after biting Dean’s lip a little too hard. 

“What?

“Get out of the car.”

Dean rubbed his fingers over his bottom lip and pushed the door out, not sure what Billy’s intention was. The evening air smelled like fresh dirt and summer. As soon as he was standing outside Billy scooted himself to the edge of the passenger seat and sank his fingers inside the top lip of Dean’s pants, tugging him close and yanking his pants open one button at a time. He immediately sucked Dean’s cock into his mouth with greedy enthusiasm, not even giving Dean a chance to prepare himself. 

Dean staggered and had to grab the hood of the car as Billy sucked his cock with a vigor that was before now unknown to him. “Holy...Jesus...” and after a minute he had to tell him, “whoa, slow down...” 

Billy didn’t listen.

Dean reached down and dug his fingers into his hair, he cupped his chin in one hand squeezing his jaw, trying to control him gently but Billy didn’t want that, or wasn’t receptive to it, so Dean tugged on his hair, not hard at first but _harder_ when Billy moaned. He stared up at Dean, blinking only when he wasn’t able not to. Dean’s hand slid to his jaw, fingers reaching to the back of his head, holding him there, and finally Billy stopped what he was doing and let Dean take over, fucking his mouth with measured thrusts, and faster when Billy moaned around them. He put his foot up on the base of the car and leaned into it, allowing himself the leverage as he tightened his grip on Billy’s hair. He didn’t need it to be rough, but Billy’s dick was out and hard as a rock, and Dean could see the thick glossy thread of precum running down the side of it, and the harder he went the more sounds Billy made so he fucked his mouth deeper until Billy couldn’t look up at him anymore and tears were leaking out the corners of his eyes from gagging. He was going to come if he didn't stop.

Billy dragged in a breath when Dean drew back, a line of saliva trailing from his cock to Billy's lips. Billy didn’t even have the decency to close his mouth, which was hot pink now and wet as all hell. He pushed himself out of the car to stand. “Fuck me,” he panted.

Dean grasped at words but came up empty handed. He might have said something about there being no lube but it didn’t seem to matter to Billy, he was already shoving his own pants down to his ankles.

He kissed him, which wasn’t what Billy was asking for but his mouth was swollen and too good to pass up, and while he did it he pulled Billy’s shirt up past his nipples, pressed him back against the car- against the hood of the car- so Billy had to put his hands on the hood and lean back on his elbows, as Dean bent over and tasted his warm skin, biting the tender flesh across his ribs. If he had been some sort of monster- Billy would have been done for, no way could Dean have resisted devouring him. Maybe that’s what it was like for vampires...

“Dean... _Dean,”_ Billy gritted out his name hard the second time.

Dean knew what he wanted. He pulled Billy up and turned him around forcefully. 

Billy took a step to the side so he could lean against the frame of the open window. The car door had fallen shut at some point.

Tan smooth thighs. Lean hips. Too much skin all exposed there in the air. Dean looked at Billy mostly naked and seemingly vulnerable compared to Dean with all his clothes still on. Billy glanced back at him, questioning with a look when Dean didn’t touch him.

“Take off your shirt,” Dean said in a deep rasp, as if it was difficult to get the words out. A flicker of uncertainty passed through Billy’s eyes, but he straightened up, grabbed the bottom of his top and pulled it over his head. 

Dean made an appreciative sound.

Billy looked at him. _So now what?_ his eyes said.

Dean closed the small space between them, roughly feeling the side’s of Billy’s naked waist and kissing him, wrapping his arm around him and turning him again so that they were flush together and taking Billy’s cock in his hand. He knew Billy was probably self conscious of the fading welts still on his back-

But there was the feeling hard leather- Dean’s belt pressed into his skin, the warm zipper of his pants, jeans against the backs of his thighs, and the rigid shaft of Dean’s cock wet with spit, burning against the cleft of his ass as Dean stroked him, keeping Billy from thinking of anything else but pushing back into the man behind him.

It was all a messy hot surge then. At some point Dean was grinding against his thighs and then he was inside him. It wasn’t immediate but hard to say how it happened. The burning, stretching, overpowering feeling that had Billy’s cock leaking into the powdery dirt beneath them. 

Dean wasn’t willing to fuck him as hard as Billy was asking for it, asking for it even while he grunted from the pain and gasped and Dean felt his stomach quivering under his palm as he held him and pushed inside him and stayed there, letting Billy’s body accommodate him as much as it would, at least a little, before he was fucking him in earnest.

Billy clung to the door of the car until Dean pulled him back and pried it open so he could get Billy down into the passenger seat and on his knees. Billy didn’t need to stroke his cock as Dean fucked him. The center armrest dug into his left forearm and he was reaching with his free hand to grasp at the dashboard and brace himself but all he wanted to feel was Dean breaking him open, let the feeling devour him, the fullness of the ache, the burn of it eating him up until he felt himself disappear inside it. 

But it was over quickly, at least it felt quick. Billy rode out the pleasure in a delirium until he heard Dean say: “Come for me,” with a rough moan, all he had to do was think about Dean coming inside him and he ejaculated explosively on the seat of his car, white streaks running down the black leather. Dean didn’t come inside of him, he slid out of the tight sheath of his body, making Billy suddenly weak, the arm holding his weight wanted to give. Hot streaks lashed across his back, warming this skin where they landed like the fading heat of a burn and running into the cleft of his ass before Dean let out a shaky breath and pressed closer. He bit Billy’s shoulder softly and dragged his lips away.

Billy dropped his head to the armrest, feeling filleted, open and exposed as the cool night air suddenly began to cling to his damp skin. He managed to extract himself from the car clumsily remembering where they were again. “There’s a...thing…” he pointed aimlessly to the back seat but Dean got the gist. He flipped the passenger seat up and brought out a rag that had been used for something at one point, there was a little grease on it but it would do the job. 

Billy never really thought this far ahead, was a little relieved Dean hadn’t come inside him, even though he wanted him to. It would have been an awkward ride home. 

Dean gave him the rag and Billy tried to get most of the mess off but Dean said, “Let me see,” and took it from him again to get the spots on his back he couldn't reach before Billy cleaned off his car seat next.

“Eh, good enough,” Billy said and threw the rag back on the floor. He climbed out and hiked up his pants and Dean pulled him into the back seat, with a sigh- letting his legs finally give out. 

It was a tight fit in the back. “Next time, we’re taking my car,” Dean said. “The backseat has way more room.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining about how tight my backseat was a minute ago.”

Dean snorted at the terrible joke, it was hard to laugh with Billy’s weight nearly on top of him. Billy was still shirtless and they were piled on each other on the small seats.

The car smelled like their sweat and Billy’s cigarettes which- he just then decided to go hunting for, and Dean suffered an elbow in the chest as Billy pushed himself up. 

It was dark out now, the sun had finally dropped out of existence and the sky was clear, although the view was obscured by thick stalks of corn in all directions but one, the way which they had driven in. Just a few empty yards of dirt behind the car. It was too dark to see beyond that but Dean was fairly certain that there was a strand of trees a couple yards out beyond the edge of the field. The corn stalks whispered in the light breeze. It was almost relaxing…

But then there was a different sound, a snuffling, low grunting noise…

Dean’s body went tense. “Did you hear that?” 

“Hear what?” Billy wasn’t facing him. He was reaching up to slip a cigarette out of the pack he’d strapped to the sun visor. He took his lighter out of the compartment between the front seats. 

Dean was looking out the slanted back window into the dark beyond the edge of the field. There was a fast streak of movement. A blur of dark angular limbs. Legs. A person-

 _something_. 

Billy had a cigarette in his mouth, he brought the lighter up and Dean’s hand shot out, snapped closed over his in a movement that made him startle. He held Billy's thumb down so he couldn’t flick the lighter.

“Hey-”

_“Ssh!”_

Billy looked at him confused. He looked around, searching for what had made Dean do what he’d done. And then he heard it too. A strange weird sound somewhere in the field, animal like, maybe, like a dog sniffing around but it didn’t sound mammalian. He looked at Dean and his eyes went huge with that eerie sort of fear that only takes hold of people in the dark, at night, or deep in the woods when they’re alone. Not the kind of nervous anxiety felt before a fight but that sudden instinctual fear. “The fuck was that?” he said, voice hushed.

Dean shook his head. They were both alert, looking out the windows. 

“There,” Billy said suddenly, pointing out the back left side. Dean could only see what might have been movement in the stalks. Billy slid past Dean. The passenger side seat was still flipped up and the door was still open. For some reason Dean stopped him, grabbed his arm, wouldn’t let him reach out and close the door but did it himself, slowly, looking out into the night as he pulled the door shut far enough to hear it click softly. It wasn’t properly closed but it was enough. 

“Is it a person?” Billy asked.

“No.”

“Some kind of dog?”

“...No.”

He didn’t know why Dean sounded so sure but he was pretty sure Dean wasn’t wrong.

It was so quiet they could hear each other breathing.

“There’s something I should probably tell you,” Dean said.

Billy stared at him in the dark backseat wondering how this had gotten so weird so fast and wondering what the fuck Dean was possibly about to say to him right now.

Dean pulled his black jacket over to him and took out a gun. Billy looked at him in disbelief. “You had a gun this whole time?”

 _“Keep your voice down,”_ Dean warned him.

Billy hadn’t even removed the unlit cigarette from his mouth. “What the fuck is going on?”

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slow. The faint light reflecting off the rear-view mirror illuminated the area around his eyes, giving them an otherworldly glow and Billy felt sucked in by him again. Dean’s stare was shivery as it moved across Billy’s face in an uncertain way and Billy leaned in slowly to kiss him again because he couldn’t help it but came up short when the sound of truck wheels tearing up the ground approached and ground to a stop at the end of their empty row. It was an old Chevy Blazer and they could just make out that it was the sheriff's department vehicle from the lettering on the side.

“ _Shit_ ,” Billy swore. He scrabbled hastily into the driver’s seat. “Get up here,” he told Dean. Dean was already following. Billy saw him hide his gun. 

“Let me handle this,” Dean said.

Billy looked at him like he was crazy. “What are you gonna do?”

Dean didn’t say anything.

“Do not shoot him,” Billy said.

Dean looked over at him alarmed. “Why would I shoot him?!”

“I have no idea!”

“I’m not going to shoot anyone,” Dean growled and got out of the car.

The officer was already out of his truck and headed their way. He put a hand on his gun holster and held his other out when Dean got out. “Stay right there,” he warned. 

“I’m just reaching for my badge,” Dean told him as he put his hand in his jacket. 

_“No you are not,”_ the officer corrected him. He was a large man, probably in his forties, heavyset.

Billy got out of the car suddenly, still shirtless, and looked over at Dean as if he thought Dean was about to do something crazy. 

“Hey!” the officer shouted. “I said stay the hell where you are. Both of you.”

Dean sighed and put his hands up in a show of innocence.

The officer shined a light on Billy’s face. Billy squinted angrily back at him. “ _You_? Aren’t you Maxine’s brother?”

“ _Step_ brother,” Billy said with practiced annoyance.

“Yeah, the one with all the speeding tickets. And who the hell are you?” he asked Dean, approached him, obviously not a timid man, and pulled open Dean’s jacket where he took out the wallet tucked into the inside pocket. He looked at Dean skeptically. “Aren’t you a little young to be an agent?”

Dean could feel Billy staring at him but refused to look over.

“I’m a savant.” Dean gave him a cheeky smile.

“Don’t get smart with me, Agent…” he looked at the wallet, “Brooks.”

“There’s something in this field,” Dean said hastily. “Something dangerous.”

“Yeah I heard about the wild animal, what I didn’t hear about was _trespassers_. So why are you boys out here?”

“Are you the Chief of police?”

The officer narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“Do you work with Jim Hopper?”

“He _is_ Chief Hopper,” Billy muttered.

Hopper turned his light on Billy again and walked over to his side of the car. “Even if he’s who he says he is, what possible reason could _you_ have for being out here with an FBI agent at night?”

Billy stared at Dean over the hood. “You’re an FBI agent? _What the fuck?_ ” 

Hopper was close to Billy. Close enough to smell him at least, which probably gave them away. “You boys have been drinking too, huh?” He looked between the younger men and his expression very slowly transformed, as if putting two and two together. 

No one said anything.

Dean and Billy both stared somewhere down around the ground, and the silence stretched on into awkwardness. 

“Oookay, well,” Hopper said finally, putting his hands on his hips. “I don’t care what you’re doing out here...as long as no one's hurt. But you _can’t_ be here.” There was no room for argument. “And _you_ , _agent_ , should know that better than anyone.”

Billy acted like the police chief wasn't even there. He was looking at Dean with an angry scowl. “I can’t believe- I’m so stupid. You _lied_ to me! Is your name even Dean?” 

Hopper looked down at the wallet he had confiscated still in his hand. “Nope. _James_.” He gave Dean a smarmy smile taking some kind of pleasure in outing his charade. 

“What the fuck!” Billy moved away from Hopper and opened the driver’s side door aggressively. 

“ _Billy_ ,” Dean tried. “It’s not like that-” he went to the window on the other side of the car.

“What else did you lie to me about?!”

“I wanted to explain-”

“Piss off,” Billy spat as the car erupted to life.

“Billy, wait-” Dean had to step away from the vehicle as Billy reversed out of the field, kicking up a horrible spray of dry dust and mowing down a swath of corn stalks with the back of his car in order to get past the sheriff's truck. 

“Billy!” Dean shouted, as Hopper hollered, “Heeey! No drinking and driving!” But Billy was already roaring off into the night. Dean sighed and stared up at the sky. He could see the stars now. " _Dammit,"_ he swore loudly. When he finally looked back at Hopper, Hopper somehow looked more exasperated than surprised. “I feel like that was a bit of an over reaction on his part, right?” Dean asked.

“Why is this town so goddamn weird?” Hopper said to himself, ignoring Dean momentarily. He was staring off into the field like he was experiencing a mild existential crisis.

Dean looked at the tracks left by the Camaro in the soft dirt and then back at Hopper sheepishly. “...I don’t suppose you’d be willing to...give me lift?” 

He gave Dean an unsympathetic glare. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and help me search the area? Maybe after, I’ll give you a lift.” 

Dean caught up to him as Hopper went back to his truck. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the last few days.”

“Why would you be trying to get a hold of me?” He opened the truck door and took out a shotgun that had been lying across his seat. He didn’t wait for Dean to catch up as he started a march around the perimeter of the field. “Who are you really?” he asked, a few paces ahead of Dean.

“My name is Dean Winchester.” Dean waited to see if that meant anything to him.

Hopper stopped walking and gave him a closer look, “...you're...John Winchester’s kid?”

“He sent us here to find you. Me and my brother, we’ve been in town for a couple days.”

“Then you know about what happened?”

“Yeah, I mean not exactly...no. I’m sure you have more insight than we do.”

“Oh sure,” Hopper began walking again. “I got insight. I got _loads_ of insight.” The bitterness, as with Joyce Beyers, was not subtle.

”Aren’t you boys a little late to the party?”

”What do you mean?”

”I mean it’s over. Everything that happened last year...we had to deal with it on our own. It wasn’t pretty.”

Dean kept an eye on the cornfield as they went. He was aware that whatever he had seen might still be out there, but he didn’t feel like it was anywhere nearby any longer, and if it was it was far away, watching them. Eventually they came to the corner of the field and beyond it stretched on into open land. Hopper stopped again. “Listen I don’t know what you think you're doing out here stirring up crap. You and your brother, you were the ones that talked to Joyce today weren’t you?” 

Given the way the chief’s mustache bristled dangerously, Dean wasn’t sure if it was smart to say yes to that.

“I’ve worked hard to make sure this town stayed safe ever since everything went to hell. And my... _friend_ , she’s very excitable. Alright? And she’s all worked up now, with her magnets, thinking that it’s coming back thanks to you and your brother poking around, _disturbing_ people. Why are you here?” 

Someone hadn’t been honest with Dean, and he had a sinking feeling it had been his father. “I thought... you called our dad? He told us you asked him for help.”

Hopper’s heavy brows were weighted by speculation. “John…” he said the name with moderate contempt and familiarity that spelled out a history behind it. “I talked to him a month back...but I didn’t ask him for help, and I sure as hell didn’t ask him to send some kids to mess around. I’ve got enough kids to deal with already.”

Dean felt suddenly tired. What was the point of this? And where had Billy gone? Dean had botched that real good. He would probably never see him again. For real this time. But he had to press on because it was the only thing to do. “Alright so I don’t know why we’re here, but obviously this weird stuff is still going on.”

“ _Nothing_ is going on. OK? _Nothing_.”

This guy had literally seen the things that Joyce Beyers had described, vicious monsters with human fingers and talons like raptors that tore through human flesh and- supposedly, Jim Hopper had been there. Dean didn’t understand how a town could just go back to life like everything was normal- unless they were all nuts but Dean wasn’t nuts. “I literally just saw something in this field!”

“And it was probably a coyote. That’s it. Lots of coyotes out here. If you go spreading rumors I’ll have you arrested. Understand?”

Dean knew what he saw hadn’t been a coyote. “Are you telling me that Joyce-”

“I said do you understand!” Hopper shouted at him.

“...Yes, sir.” Futility crept under Dean’s skin.

“Good.” Hopper had seemingly satisfied himself as much as he cared to with the search and marched back to the car. “Get in,” was all he said to Dean.

They headed back towards town.


	6. Much Stranger Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lets kick the horror up a notch, shall we?

After Dean got out of Hopper’s truck in the lot of the motel and the chief of police had driven away, he stood there for a while, alone, crickets trilling; an endless stream of noise that gave the summer night air an almost physical presence. He wanted to figure out what was going on- no, he didn’t _want_ to, he _needed_ to. What he _wanted..._ what he _wanted_ was to see Billy. But what he wanted wasn’t possible, and wasn’t that just the way his shit fest of a life always went? He couldn’t find Billy. Billy wouldn’t have gone back to the bar, not after earlier, and apart from that Dean had no clue where to go looking. 

He had no desire to go into that small room just yet either and have to answer all the questions Sam was going to have, or explain to him his visit with Jim Hopper, while he sat on the bed where the sheets still smelled like Billy’s musky cologne from the night before. It was ironic that Dean was back already and it was barely ten o clock, when he hadn’t expected to be until much much later. Had he wanted to fuck Billy senseless? Yeah. But to that end he’d also wanted to talk to him, touch him, joke around with him...he had been robbed, the last kiss -stolen from him.

He walked down to the motel office. Two vending machines sat in the short hallway that cut through the building to the back of it. They only sold Coke and cigarettes respectively and neither one of those things appealed to Dean currently. The electric white light from the arcing cursive letters that said _Coke_ across the front of the machine lit up the surrounding area. He pressed one of the rectangular clear plastic buttons for no particular reason but to feel it depress. Nothing happened.

He put his hands in the pockets of his black motorcycle jacket and looked over at the office next door, the lights were still on but it seemed empty. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen anyone inside the office since they had checked in.

There was something in the upper corner of the window. He took only a few steps closer to look, not wanting anyone inside to see him. At first he thought it was a plant, some sort of fern or vine on the inside of the window pressed up against the glass, but then on closer inspection the pattern appeared to be more like a spider web- except that it was black, and that it was far too large to be one. The strangeness of it compelled him closer to the window, no longer caring if he was seen. 

Standing in front of the paned front window he could see there was no one in there, and that something was very wrong with this picture. The scene he was looking into was like some kind of stage set up for a Halloween movie, but he knew it had to be real because, frankly, there was a Winchester standing in front of it. The black tendrils in the window clung like a creeping vine and they oozed some kind of residue across the glass- they looked _alive_. The rest of the room was trashed, files were scattered across the counter top, the lamp in the back was flickering on and off. There were more giant dark vines inside the small room. 

He took two slow steps back and then started jogging back to the room.

“Sam!” The door to the motel room burst open and Dean flew in.

Sam stood up immediately. “What’s wrong?” The TV was on and Sam was just in a shirt and boxers.

“Come here you need to look at this.”

Sam threw on his pants and followed him down to the office. “Oh my god...” he said, looking at the room through the window. “How long do you think this has been like this?”

Dean tried the handle on the door to the lobby. It opened. He took out his gun and pushed on the door but it stuck on something and he had to shoulder it open far enough for them to go inside.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be in here,” Sam said quietly as they crept in, looking at the sticky vines that covered the right side of the room and part of the floor. 

Dean stepped over an overturned potted palm tree- dirt spilling out onto the carpet, and crept carefully past the front desk, towards the lamp flickering below its green glass shade. 

The back walls converged into one dark corner that the vines had exuded from, they seemed to be coming through the wall. He stopped and aimed his gun at whatever was on the ground behind the overturned chair. At first he thought it was a body but there wasn’t enough of it to be one. Bits of clothing, a pair of shoes, and what looked like chunks of baked fruit- like someone had smashed a huge cherry pie on the floor by the desk.

“Uhg what is that,” Sam said, looking down to check what he was stepping in.

“I don’t know, but I can give you one guess as to what it _was_.”

They left the office warily and went back outside where everything still seemed oddly normal in comparison to the scene inside. The vacancy sign for the place was still on but clearly no one had come looking for a place to stay.

“On the upside I guess we don’t need to pay for our rooms,” Sam said tartly.

“Yeah, really convenient,” Dean said without humor, scoping out the area.

“You still wanna wait to check out that lab?”

Dean let out a resigned sigh and they headed back to get prepared. 

Although adrenaline fueled, the inspection of the lab goes by without any untoward events or jump scares. They track the building up and down, searching every floor, looking for any sign of supernatural behavior, finding only abandoned office supplies, overturned chairs, and a few busted up- or maybe torn down walls. At around two in the morning, feeling raw and edgy from wandering in dark disused hallways in the dead of night, they give up and head back. There is still the issue of the motel. 

“Do we stay here?” One of them asks. Neither can even remember who, but they were both thinking it. They don't want to stay but it's late and somebody has to keep an eye on whatever is happening here. This is the best lead they have. They finally decide to just stay put. Sam suggests they keep watch in turns but there’s probably only another four hours max before daylight comes seeping in to tell them they haven’t had enough sleep and they end up just falling into bed with their clothes on. Sleep doesn’t come easy at first, and then all at once like a black out. 

Dean’s shaken awake by Sam and for a long confusing moment he has no idea where he is or what’s going on. Sam is quiet however and doesn't look alarmed. Eventually Dean’s brain comes back online. Well... they didn’t die in the night, so that’s good. He looks at his watch. It’s 9:00 am. Five or six hours of sleep- ish. Not the worst, definitely not the best either. “Are we awake for a reason?” he asks, just checking. He could definitely still sleep, mortal peril be damned.

“I just don’t think we should be wasting time,” Sam says. “Or taking our chances.”

Dean lets out a sound like a dry groan to indicate that he agrees, but also he hates it. Regardless, they get dressed- with effort Dean gets dressed. He works himself into the pair of black Levi’s from his bag, one of three pairs of pants he is traveling with, a dark gray ribbed tank and a dark blue jean vest that leaves his arms and shoulders bare. And for the hell of it, musing about the off chance he should see Billy, which he knows is never going to happen, he changes his earring. Removing the small shiny stud and putting in the only other earring he owns, a small gold hoop. Pointless really, but the gold offsets the tan notes in his skin. _Dean_ notices at least, even if no one else does. 

They make sure they’re strapped and packing heat before they venture out to check on the office and see if any developments have happened in the night. The place is much the same as before, perhaps weirder in the daylight. The giant vines have taken over more of the window but that seems to be the extent of it. 

“Do you think we should burn it?” Dean asks and turns to look at Sam. Instead of waiting for a reply he draws his gun. ”Sam,” he hisses in warning. And Sam turns around. They’re both looking at a man standing in the first parking spot near the office. He isn’t moving. His clothes are dirty, and they can see by his short black hair and familiar face that it’s the man who gave them the keys to their room a couple nights back.

“Hey there,” Dean calls out experimentally although it’s clear there is something wrong with the guy. He’s not even looking at them he’s just...staring at nothing and rocking gently side to side like a moored boat.

They exchange nervous glances.

“Sir, uh, do you remember us?” Sam asks. “You checked us into our room the other day...do you, uh, know what happened here?”

No response.

“You okay?” Dean asks more forcefully, it’s the deep commanding tone his dad used to use, now his fall back in uncertain situations these days.

They don’t get anything out of the man. He stays there with vacant eyes and dirty hands. 

“What’s that on his hands?” Sam asks. “Is that blood?”

Before Dean can answer the man looks at them with a wide unnatural smile.

“What the- ”

The man runs at them. As if electrocuted into motion. He charges them. He was only a parking space’s distance away and he’s on them in a no more than a couple seconds. Sam and Dean aren’t much for running so they both draw up their weapons automatically but hesitate to shoot because it’s just a person. Dean pulls the trigger at the last second as the crazed man’s fingers reach for his collarbone and the gunfire blasts through the air, startling an entire flock of birds into flight across the road. At this range the bullet has to have entered the man’s gut and gone clear out the other side but he doesn’t stop moving either because of momentum or because the shock of the bullet hasn’t slowed him down yet and they fly backwards- into the glass window of the office- Dean’s back hits it first- it shatters around them. 

His eyes are squeezed shut against the rain of glass and his legs hit the bottom of the windowsill and Dean can’t stop to think about whether or not it hurts because the crazy man is still on top of him and he’s trying to strangle Dean- or pin him to the ground- Dean’s not sure, he’s just trying to get the guy off of him. Something else is moving next to him and out of the corner of his eye he can see the vines, now looking like engorged, sick, reddish-purple worms, they are moving like they are _alive_ , not the slow speed of a carnivorous plant drawing shut, but the speed of a spurred animal- and they lunge for him. 

Sam is there an instant later. He grabs the man by the back of the jacket and heaves him away from Dean. Dean springs to his feet, vines chasing him. Sam and Dean bust out of the door even though they both came in through the broken window. 

Sam has to catch him and pull him as the vines try to drag Dean back into their layer. Once they are back out onto the street they seem to be in the clear. 

Sam is still gripping Dean’s arm as they look to see if anything else follows. They can’t see the man who attacked them, he’s still on the ground it looks like. They take a few steps closer, still clutching each other without thinking about it, to see if the man is dead, and before they can peak in he’s _there_. He stands up - springing and rigid like a jack released from its box and stares ahead, clearly the bullet went through his jacket but he seems unaffected- and then starts to convulse, and jiggle in a grotesque display of uncontrollable limbs until he literally shakes apart and his flesh starts to bubble and melt off and he dissolves, bones and muscles and skin, it all disappears from sight with the sound of his bodily fluids slopping to the ground.

Neither one of them moves.

“ _Dude…_ ” Dean says eventually. Sam still has a vice grip on his arm and there is probably glass in Dean’s back but he can’t feel it.

“What the fuck just happened?” Sam says in a voice edged by panic.

Dean pants out at the tail end of a breath, “I don’t know but this just got a whole lot weirder.” 


	7. Zombie Apocolypse

It will be another seven years before Dean takes his coffee black by choice (and possibly necessity) but there is nothing to add to the dark liquid this morning and he makes do with the watery substance in the Styrofoam cup that they are calling coffee in this place, as they sit in the quiet lobby of the sheriff's station. The day is gloomy for Summer. A heavy mugginess lays low in the air dimming the early sunlight making Dean feel even more like he might be still dreaming. It’s going to be a hot day, he can feel it already. It’s not even 10am yet and they’ve already watched a guy dissolve into a puddle of goo before their very eyes.

Jim Hopper doesn’t give him the runaround this time. In fact he blows into the room and sets his sights on them immediately without preamble. Dean is expecting to have to debate him but they don’t get a word out. 

“Okay, let’s go,” the chief says grabbing his hat off of a desk and affixing it to his head as if it’s some sort of armor. They have to ask their questions on the move because he’s already going out the door. “As much as it pains me to say it, you were right,” he tells Dean.

“Yeah, no kidding, we saw some crazy shit this morning,” Dean says. It’s why they came here.

Hopper finally stops by his truck. “Like?”

Dean and Sam exchange glances. How do they explain what happened?

“I’m going to the hospital,” Hopper says. “And I think you boys should see this too.”

What they find there is, not exactly what they found earlier, but clearly very similar in nature. People are being brought into the hospital with bizarre symptoms, rambling, vacant, often violent, and descending into screaming and thrashing fits like rabid animals. They’ve all had to be restrained. The doctors are stumped, disturbed, and look more than a little stressed because nothing but the heaviest of the sedatives they have administered has even remotely calmed down the stricken patients. 

Hopper bypasses all the security in the hospital so they can get an actual look at these people. It isn’t pretty. Dean hasn’t even eaten yet and it puts him off the idea of breakfast which is just depressing.

“They think it has something to do with rats,” Sam muses once they are out of the hospital and Hopper has left them to frantically take care of his own business, something about  _ Joyce _ , and something about his  _ daughter _ .

“Like, a virus being spread?”

“Yeah, I seriously doubt that.” Despite being demoralized at the thought of food earlier Dean still manages to consume half of a sandwich before Sam uses the word “liquify” to describe their earlier encounter and he puts the food down. Pie is entirely out of the question for at least a week.

“Alright I’m just gonna come out and say it,” Dean says when they finally conclude they’re at a dead end with clues, “ _ Zombie Apocalypse _ .” 

Sam’s reaction isn’t as incredulous as Dean expected. He looks like he might actually be seriously considering it.

“But Dean,  _ one _ guy does not a zombie apocalypse make.”

“Maybe it’s just beginning.” He points at Sam- “Those people in the hospital? If they weren’t being sedated, that place, full on Night of the Living Dead!”

“Even if it spreads like a virus, how the hell are we supposed to stop something like that? That’s more of a job for the CDC than us. And the vines...” he stares off shaking his head.

Dean asks the waiter for a to go container. Maybe his appetite will come back later. There is at least one thing we can do,” Dean tells Sam.

“Yeah? What?”

“We can figure out what kills them.”

The vines are still there when they go back to the motel. They have taken out part of the wall and the floor is completely covered now in smaller tendrils. Out of the trunk they take knives and guns and holy water and take turns unloading on the room. Silver blades don’t work, nothing blessed or hexed seems to work, and salt doesn’t even warrant a twitch from the alien plant. When they unload a few bullets into the thing for good measure it seems to be pissed with them finally and everything comes alive, writhing around like snakes. After reciting one more incantation Dean gets the red gas can out of the trunk.

They douse part of the motel office in gasoline and drop a pack of matches inside. The place goes up like a cardboard box, but they aren't trying to burn down the whole area. 

“Gotta love fire,” Dean says. “It’s like the universal cure-all.” 

There is a series of rather disturbing screeching and sizzling noises and the vines go crazy. After a minute the flagrant corner of the office goes quiet apart from some popping sound and the whip of flames back and forth. They spray it down with the fire extinguisher leaving a huge plume of smoke to drift up into the air and float away.

The vines are gone. Not burnt. Just gone. 

They carefully move in to look. It seems like the plants have retreated, simply slipped back into wherever they came from, returning to their layer. There’s a large hole in the ground and back wall now left empty and dark.

“That somehow makes me feel way worse,” Dean says. 

Dean takes his final shower in their motel. They’re moving on now that the place has finally been declared condemned, more or less. He’s been trying not to think about what that means for his trysts with Billy Hargrove. This is the only place Billy knows where to find him, and Dean’s got nothing in the way of tracking Billy down. But that’s life. It’s not the first time it has stung a little to leave someone behind. Besides, it was just a fling. A one night stand kind of a deal. The kind of one night stand that made tectonic plates shift - but hey! There is still time to get his heart destroyed by plenty of other people. In hindsight, Jim Hopper did him a favor in severing the connection before it really took hold of Dean. This was not the place to indulge in his deeply buried and repeatedly denied yearning for homosexual romance.

He wraps one of the motel towels around his waist, still damp from the day before. Even if this was the sort of place where they brought you fresh towels (which it isn’t) that wouldn’t be an option now. He let’s the water run down from his short hair onto his back. His hair dries quickly anyway. Temperatures are getting into the upper eighties outside and he’s still sweating from the fire earlier. 

“Did I hear you talking to somebody?” he asks Sam when he comes out of the bathroom. He’s sure he heard Sam saying something a few minutes ago.

“No it was just someone at the door.”

Dean stops where he’s standing. That’s weird. This place has been dead all week. ”Yeah?  _ Who _ ?”

“I dunno, he had the wrong room.” Sam shrugs.

Dean’s heart skips a beat. He knows it’s unlikely but- “What’d he look like?” He starts pulling on his pants, not bothering with underwear. 

Sam looks up at him finally, wondering why Dean cares. “I don’t know. Young?” He shrugs again.

“Was he blonde?”

“Yeah, actually...”

“About this tall,” Dean holds out his arm.

“Um, yeah I think so. Dean-”

Dean’s heart skips two beats this time. “How long ago was he here?” He asks, trying not to sound too intense.

Sam’s brow is creased, now very confused as to why Dean cares. “He literally just left. Just a moment before you got out of the bathroom.” 

Dean gets to the door in a few rapid steps and yanks it open. He doesn’t find what he’s searching for but he thinks that maybe, in the distance, that car engine... belongs to a Camaro. And now it’s gone. He feels a jolt of panic there in the walkway in which he considers how fast he can get his keys and race after that hint of sound disappearing into the proverbial sunset. 

But he’s on a case. And this just isn’t the time or place. It would be ridiculous. He doesn’t even really know who it was. But  _ god _ who else could it have been?!

“Did he say anything?” he asks Sam as soon as he steps back from the doorway.

Sam shrugs again and it makes him feel crazy. “What was he wearing? Did he have an earring?”

“I don’t know Dean! He may have had an earring. Why does it matter?”

“Because I think I know the guy and he was probably looking for me.” Secrets be damned at this point.

“Uh, he was- he was wearing a lifeguard uniform, like from a swim center.” Sam offers him this small yet tantalizing scrap of info as if it’s totally worthless, but that same thing inside him that caused the jolt of panic is flaring up again and it’s more like hope. He feels light headed. And the small clue gives him enough hope to calm down.

“Who do you think it was?”

“Just a guy I met at the bar.” Dean is too ruffled to give a crap about being dishonest right now, but he still adds, “I was hoping he had some information about the case.” He goes and gets his shirt and watch on and starts packing to leave. They don’t have much in the room but a few articles of clothes and a bag of chips. They have been prepared to hustle out since yesterday. 

“Whatever. Listen, can we just get out of here already?” He’s annoyed now and it’s not Sam’s fault but he feels too compromised. Everything is speeding away from him and he’s sitting in this useless place doing nothing and they’re getting nowhere fast. He needs to move.   
Once Sam is out of the way waiting in the car Dean thinks about writing down the name of the motel they are transferring to and leaving a note for Billy in case he comes back around but he doesn’t. Why would Billy come back now?


	8. That Dark Silky Hawaiin Number

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been a second since I updated this hasn't it? I have a ton more, and it's sexy, but it's got to be edited. I'll probably post the next one in a few days.

Dean sat in the car. He was there because of the original reports. Freaky shit going on around here had involved water. Water was often considered a portal in the occult so it made some kind of sense to be here- not any sense that fit in with _zombies_ and _lightning,_ but whatever. They were running out of leads....at least that’s what he had told Sam.

The sound of children playing and screaming cascaded over the fenced in public pool and across the crowded parking lot. Dean was going to go inside and question whatever disgruntled teenager was manning the desk. He _was_. He was just working up to it because it was going to be annoying. They were inevitably going to be uninterested and uncooperative and he wasn’t going to get anything out of the deal because no one in a place like this would have noticed anything anyways. He sat there in his shiny black car with a pair of cheap black sunglasses on in tight black jeans and his attention snagged on a pair of women walking out in neon pink bikinis as they chatted, their large beach towels draped around their necks. His gaze trailed after their endless tan legs until a thud on the roof of his car startled him. Looking up, his heart practically leapt out of the window.

Like some sort of sexy magician, Billy appeared outside his window. His hand was on the hood as he leaned down to look in at Dean. Dean could see straight down that gaping unbuttoned shirt, some dark silky Hawaiian number.

“What are you doing here?” Billy asked confrontationally, as if Dean had parked in Billy’s driveway instead of a public street.

“Uh-” Dean had admittedly had ulterior motives for coming to the swim center but he hadn’t actually expected them to bear fruit. He'd all but convinced himself Billy turning up here was nearly a wild fantasy, then all of a sudden, there he was flashing Dean his nipples like a damn prostitute. He considered making up some crap about work but decided that was only going to work against him in this situation, “little bird told me you were a lifeguard.”

“Yeah, was it an FBI bird? And you just, uh, figured it would be cool to _stalk_ me?”

“Actually-” 

Billy looked back over his shoulder as if checking to see if anyone was looking and then reached in the window to unlock the door. He dropped into the car beside Dean quickly.

“Sure, come right in,” Dean mumbled.

Billy put his arm over the back of the seat and looked at Dean very similarly to the way he had last time he was in the car with him. He was so close so suddenly. Dean felt his body start to react to the situation, mostly by sweating nervously. Billy’s expression didn’t give away any kind of feeling other than that he was pissed off, so Dean allowed himself to stare back at Billy working out which parts he’d remembered correctly once Billy was gone and which things he hadn’t been able to recall with clarity once he was sober. He kinda figured part of his attraction to Billy had been thanks to the beer goggles but if anything he was more attractive now in the lucidity of the light of day than Dean had recollected. The Cupid’s Bow of his lips was more pronounced. His hair was massively downplayed compared to last time, unstyled, or less styled at least, curlier than before and not blown out with hairspray. His skin was-

“You were really good the other night,” Billy said, dispassionate approval in his voice but utterly lacking affection of any kind.

The comment knocked Dean sideways, taking out the one last leg he had been standing on after the surprise of seeing Billy to begin with. He tried to recover. “I aim to please,” he said, managing to keep his voice low and even to not stumble over his words. 

“In spite of that, there are a few things I need to get off my chest.”

“Look Billy, I know-”

“I said a lot of shit that night. The kinda shit that could cause problems, mainly for you, if it were to make the rounds.”

Dean’s eyebrows went up. It wasn’t what he was expecting. “You’re threatening me? You think I care enough to gossip about your daddy issues?”

“It’s not a threat,” Billy said in the way that meant it was definitely a threat, “just some friendly _advice_. People who hang out at bars like to talk to other people who hang out at bars. A lot of regulars around here know people, people who know people like my family.” 

“Billy, I would never talk about you to other people.”

“Well…” Billy huffed, “that almost hurts my feelings,” He dropped his aviators down to look over the top of them at Dean. 

Dean snatched his own sunglasses off his face, revealing his eyes. “There’s no pleasing you, is there?”

Billy’s eyes glittered mischievously at him but they refused to look anywhere but Dean’s face. He pushed his glasses back up and got out of the car leaving Dean to flounder.

To Dean’s dismay Billy simply walked off. He was left with only the option to get out and chase him. Billy must have been leaving work because he headed out into the lot instead of towards the swim center, still in his rather short shorts and Dean almost bowled over a group of kids because of it. 

By the time Dean caught up Billy was already standing by his car lighting a cigarette but his back was to Dean and he didn’t bother turning around.

“Whaddya want, Dean?” He asked. When he didn’t get a response he finally peered over his shoulder.

Dean licked his lips awkwardly in that way he did when he was still picking out his words. “I uh, I just…” he decided to just let it out, “I’ve been dying to see you.” He gave Billy a sheepishly awkward but endearing smile.

“That’s nice,” Billy said coldly. The statement would have been a lot colder if Billy didn't fumble his cigarette for maybe the first time in his life since he was a kid. He picked it up off the ground and glared at it like it had intentionally jumped out of his fingers.

“So this is where you work?” 

“Yeah. It is,” Billy said, attempting to light his cigarette again, “so if you could piss off that’d be great.”

“Listen, Billy, about the other night...”

Billy sighed and let his head fall back in annoyance as he blew out a stream of smoke. _“Forget about it.”_ He opened his door to get in and only managed to get on the other side of it before Dean grabbed the edge, his hand going through the open window to get a hold of the door frame. 

Billy stared at the offending hand.

Dean was lost. Billy was here now but not interested. And if he wasn't interested or still too mad to talk then why did he even bother to come by the other night? 

“Let go.”

“I’m trying to say I’m sorry,” Dean said with more force than before. He just wanted Billy to listen.

Billy glared at Dean and Dean gave him the worst look. The most soul piercing, genuine, lingering look Billy had ever seen. He looked straight into Billy’s eyes, gaze unwavering, delicate eyebrows drawn together just the tiniest amount in…what? Remorse? Anticipation of Billy’s rejection? Was it hope in his eyes? And Billy wanted to kiss him. Bad. Bad enough he had to reach for the steering wheel and squeeze it to hold himself back. He could feel all kinds of stupid dumb ass things to say springing to his tongue- but no. He was too damn angry. Just keeping his mouth shut was all he could manage.

Dean continued his apology. “I wasn’t trying to lead you on. I was gonna explain I just didn't have time and everything happened so fast. I didn’t think- hell- I didn’t even think I was gonna see you that second time.”

Sure. Nice. Billy thinks, maybe that would be cool except- “I don’t care, Dean. Doesn’t matter. ‘Cus I’m not interested in this- whatever this shit is- I got plenty of other ways to get laid that are _way_ less complicated.” He looked like he meant it. He'd specifically used the phrase _get laid_ on purpose and it was obvious.

Dean had thought it. Had been thinking about it from the start. He just hadn’t expected hearing it aloud to sting that much. Even though Billy’s sentiment was perfectly rational, he couldn’t entirely hide feeling crushed by it. He quietly nodded. “Yeah. That’s… that’s fair.”

There was a hint of questioning in Billy's eyes, seeing Dean’s reaction, his statement had actually worked as a double agent, aiming to hurt him and also divulge how Dean really felt, and it had worked.

“For the record though, I didn’t lie to you. _Technically,_ I lied to the chief of police.”

Billy narrowed his eyes at him. “So what? You think you invented lying to the cops?” 

Dean tilts his head a little more confused. Isn’t that what he’s pissed about?

“I’m sure you have some weird fucken reason or whatever.” He finally lowers himself fully into the car. Dean doesn’t know what else to do so he lets go of the door and it bangs shut. He can’t let him go without at least warning him that something is wrong in this town. Something is really really wrong. He can’t just- he can’t just let him drive off. 

“Uh, by the way I’m...I might be leaving tonight,” Dean says quietly, hoping Billy doesn’t tell him he doesn’t give a shit.

Billy’s dark eyelashes flutter a few too many times. His mouth is tightly pursed. He doesn’t look at Dean.

Dean reaches into the car for Billy’s hand and Billy looks even more appalled than before, but he doesn’t pull his hand away just stares at Dean with those angry blue eyes- no... angry? Not angry? He’s upset. _Maybe_ it’s anger but it’s masking something else. Dean sees it now.

And he doesn’t get it.

His mind spins back the reels of the last few days playing them out. What did he do? Apart from the scene in the cornfield this is the first time he's seen Billy since Billy came to the room and he hadn’t even seen him then, Sam had- 

_Oh god._

Sam.

Sam, stupid shirtless Sam in his room answering the door! Objectionably very good looking to most people probably with his hair, idiotically tall, and yeah, Dean supposed, he had rippling abs or something. His stupid kid brother who- as far as Billy knew- was halfway across America in the other direction and not in Dean’s motel room.

Now the look in Billy’s eyes meant something completely different. A small part of Dean was thrilled that Billy cared enough to be jealous, but he also felt bad. He wasn’t going to let him think what he was thinking for another second.

“I guess you met my brother,” Dean said. “Giant baby with hair, about this tall.”

“What?” Billy’s look was incredibly doubtful. “Your brother is in California.”

“Nah, he came back the first night we uh...in the morning. Changed his mind.”

Billy wasn’t buying it. “He doesn’t look like you,” he said suspiciously. 

“Yeah, it’s not his fault. I’m the one who inherited the good looks.”

“Didn’t notice. Couldn’t see past his rock hard pecs,” Billy said, using his shitty provocative tone.

Dean refused to be jealous of his kid brother, even if that was what Billy wanted. “Hate to disappoint you but the door only swings one way on that guy, so uh, I guess you’re stuck with me.” 

Billy refused to look impressed.

“That is unless you’d rather go hit up one of your other _casual acquaintances_.” Dean received a long once over from cool blue eyes for his trouble.

And they were back on familiar ground. 

This was much better. Billy’s manner was immediately warmer and more relaxed than it had been a few minutes ago. Relief washed over Dean. Now that he had solved that mystery and cleared it up Billy no longer looked like he wanted to ditch him.

Billy sighed and made a show of thinking things over before he finally said, like it was almost not worth his time, “I might be willing to meet you somewhere.”

“You wanna get a drink?”

“I’d rather get a room.”

“Yeah, I’m totally good with that too.”

“Meet me at the Twin Palms motel on Franklin avenue. Give me a few minutes to check in. I’ll buy but, Dean... I’m not gonna wait forever so you better be quick.”

Dean carefully scanned the area but there was no one nearby to see what he was about to do. “I better leave this with you then, as an insurance policy.” His fingers reached for Billy and brushed his chest before lightly grasping his shirt and coaxing him forward so he could lean in and kiss him. 

It might have been the softest kiss yet. Of his life. For a second Billy forgot that he had been trying desperately not to look like he was swooning, or like all that stuff he told himself about being able to ignore Dean was absolute bullshit.

The kiss didn’t deepen, but Billy chased Dean's lips just a little anyway when he pulled away, before regaining his control and dropping his head back against the seat trying to appear unmoved. “Clock’s ticking Dean, better get a move on.”

“How will I know which room?”

“...You’ll know.”

The Camaro's engine roared to life again. Dean tried to resist sprinting back to his own car. He had to at least let Billy get there first. 


	9. Chlorine and Gasoline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter has been a long time coming. I wrote it ages ago and then a million things happened and I just watched the ***SUPERNATURAL FINALE** and I DON'T KNOW HOW I AM SUPPOSE TO GO ON FROM HERE? I don't know how to ever write Dean being miserable ever AGAIN because I just want our poor sweet boy to be happy. I am not ok. How will I write the next few chapters when they are suppose to be so angsty? What will I do with my life?? I have no idea. Everything is pain.  
> Have some smutty 80s boys I guess. Warning this is mostly just smut. #Bottom Billy #rimming just absolute smut which the last few chapters were suppose to be building up to I guess! AaAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Sitting on the edge of the bed Billy wiped his palms on his shorts. Being nervous for this kind of a thing just wasn’t his gig. He was confident as all hell in the role of seduction. This was his _forte_. His time to shine. The only one who didn't seem to get that in recent memory was Steve Harrington and Billy was quickly starting to believe that guy was the dumbest fucking piece of ass in history. Like, the dude legitimately didn’t get it did he? 

But here Billy was, waiting on the first guy who had ever made a move on him without Billy instigating it to show up ,and his hands were shaking a little.

Fuck, was this what it was like for those losers who made an ass of themselves in front of girls? Falling down in the hallways at the first sign of cleavage and tripping over themselves? No wonder all these virgins were such a fucking mess.

“Alright man, get your shit together,” he told himself. He stood up and went to the mirror for what wasn’t the first time and examined himself. He hadn’t intended to play the sexy lifeguard for Dean but he was gonna have to work with it. The shirt was fine, he had already changed that earlier, but shorts and flip flops? 

He kicked off the sandals with a sigh. It’s not like he was gonna need his clothes that long. 

And what the hell was taking Dean so long? Had he changed his mind...he had said he was “dying” to see Billy. He wouldn’t change his mind. Not after that kiss. 

Billy stood there unsure what to do with himself, he didn’t want to sit down and twiddle his thumbs. He looked at the bathroom door and an idea came to him. 

It was perfect actually.

The Impala bounced a little as it took the speed bump on the way into the motel lot. Dean looked up at the large sign shaped like a cutout of two palm trees, probably the only palm trees of any kind for hundreds of miles. Seemed fitting, appropriate to Billy’s taste. The building was a gaudy pink and beige color. The place looked fairly new. There was even a small swimming pool in front. 

Dean parked a few paces away from the Camaro which was now looking tame and quiet without its owner nearby, and made his way up to the building. He had no clue what he was supposed to be looking for. He strolled past the bottom floor and then sprinted up the stairs to the next floor. Nothing out of the ordinary. No sign. Just regular old motel doors.

Down near the last door on the upper floor he finally paused. There it was. Hanging off the handle was a long dangling earring. Something so easy to miss, but Billy must have known Dean had sharp eyes. 

The door opened without a knock. Billy was almost caught off guard. He hadn’t heard Dean approach but he was coming in and closing the door, turning his back to it and pushing it with his fingers until the latch clicked. His eyes immediately fell on Billy. 

Billy was just leaving the bathroom in a towel and he stopped and stood there as they stared at one another for what felt like an age, and then as if in slow motion, he approached Dean. Dean was motionless apart from his gaze which moved over Billy, and when he got close enough he realized Dean was wearing his earring. 

“How do I look?” Dean asked, the long piece of jewelry dangling from his left ear.

Billy took a deep breath and wondered if he had been holding it that whole time, his words were breathy with his exhale. “You look good. You look...really good,” he said, but he didn’t think it had anything to do with the earring.

Dean’s cheek twitched a little like he was trying not to smile wider and he put his chin up. 

Billy looked down at himself, remembering he was in a towel. “I figured I’d wash off the pool water and stuff.”

Dean was already staring down at his body as Billy said the words. His eyes jumped back up to Billy’s face. “Uh- yeah, totally.”

The black jacket Dean was wearing looked too hot for this heat, and Billy reached out and peeled Dean out of it slowly, seeing Dean’s lips part unconsciously when Billy’s hands touched him- not even him- just his clothes. Their chests so near to touching but not. Dean let the leather jacket fall to the ground, keeping his own hands down near his sides. He had a worn thin black t-shirt on underneath and Billy wanted to peel that off too but for some reason he couldn’t make the next move until Dean did something. Anything. He was just staring at Billy and Billy was forced to watch the man lick his soft plump looking lips again like he wasn’t even aware he was fucking doing it. 

“I’m glad I found you,” Dean said, like he really meant it. “I didn’t want things to end so fast the other night.”

“You gonna tell me who you really are now? Dean- it is _Dean_?”

Dean chuckled and looked down at the floor. “Yeah. Yeah it is.” 

Billy felt awkwardly young suddenly, heady and overzealous, like this was all foreign territory. He wanted to put his hand on the door, lean in, _act cool._ Dean was just a little taller than him which was a new experience. He had never kissed someone taller than him other than Dean. Dean seemed a million miles ahead of him and Billy was unprepared. It was stupid, Billy had messed around with people much older than Dean without batting an eye. 

That kiss Dean had the nerve to drop on him in the parking lot had lit his fuse and it had been burning long and slow all the way here and now they were so close and Dean was making him wait even longer- or maybe it wasn’t entirely just Dean. Billy wanted him then so bad it was almost better to savor it like this.

Dean looked like he was about to finally go for it, reach out and touch Billy, but he stopped himself. 

“I gotta tell you something,” Dean said.

Billy’s heart dropped a little, his mind spinning suddenly through a hundred unfortunate things Dean could be about to say.

“This morning I was attacked.”

Billy drew back in surprise. “What?” That had definitely not been one the hundred things darting through his head.

“Yeah, it was weird. Like, really crazy weird.” He paused as if considering something. “I don’t normally tell people this but I want you to know because I...I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Me and my brother we’re like,” Dean held back, the word ‘hunter’ didn’t mean anything to most people, “we investigate strange things. Do you remember the incident with the lab last year?”

“I just moved here, I don’t know anything about this fucking place.”

“Right, yeah, well all I know so far is that there is some kind of disease going around, something is real wrong, I’m talking zombie outbreak wrong.”

Billy laughed. Dean cut him off from saying anything-

“I know how crazy it sounds, _believe_ me I do.”

Dean did sound nuts. Maybe he _was_ crazy. Just...really _hot_ and crazy. Billy was unfortunately sort of into it. Dean would have to get a whole lot weirder to put him off at this point. 

“I haven’t figured it out yet,” Dean said. “If I actually knew what was going on I would sound less certified but we don’t have any solid leads apart from the guys in the hospital.”

Billy wanted to make a remark, he wanted to be a little mean, tease him a little and tell him how cute it was that he was acting like Billy’s knight in shining armor. He wanted to ask what exactly the hell he meant by ‘zombies’ but he had been standing too close to him for too long and Dean was giving him that sincere piercing look again- and it made Billy speechless.

“Anyway,” Dean said, “I’m just telling you this because…” Billy’s shoulders looked bronze and smooth in the shuttered room and Dean reached out to run his hands over them, finally touching him, “I just wanna make sure you’re alright.” 

Billy nearly shivered at the touch. “I’m alright now,” he finally managed, giving Dean a raised eyebrow. And the look Dean gave him god it was just so... _gay_ . This whole thing was so incredibly gay and reflexively he almost made a comment, but he swallowed the barbed joke, swallowed the knee jerk reflex he had crafted for locker rooms and public spaces and let Dean trail tender fingers down his arms. His eyes fluttered closed unintentionally. He felt the pressure of strong hands cuff his wrists -fingers press into the soft skin at the inside, against tendons, against his pulse- and then warm lips against his own. He realized he was hard and didn’t know how long he had been, but the feeling in his chest that was almost hurting him was taking precedence, making it hard to breath, making his stomach clench. He tried not to grab, not to push, but it was going to take so much more of this to tame this hunger raging through him like a wildfire, sparked from just one little kiss. He had been stupid enough to think that getting _more_ would sedate the burning need but no. Not this. This was gasoline on the fire. 

Dean’s hands left his wrists and found his waist, traveled back to his arms, squeezed him just below the shoulders, squeezed, and groped, and dug into his smoothy muscled body and Billy finally shoved him back into the door. They hit it a little too hard but Dean didn’t seem to mind. He just grabbed Billy tighter- kissed him harder. 

Billy needed to explore every avenue of the other man’s body. He hadn’t wanted certain things until just now. He hadn't realized he _could_ want them; things like how to make Dean make that sound again, and the knowledge of what his expression was going to look like twenty minutes from now in the depths of this.

Dean finally pressed him back into the middle of the room, letting Billy dig under his t- shirt and lift it up before Dean finished it off by tugging it over his own head and slinging it to the floor. 

As Billy trailed his hands over the rough jean texture of Dean’s thigh and then the swell at the front of his hips, so tightly contained in those black pants, he was paralyzed with one particular _need_...

He tried to say it but what came out was: “If anyone found out about this I’d be fuckin’ dead.” His voice was rough and quiet. He looked up into Dean’s eyes again. That flinty gaze stared back at him and he knew he didn’t have the power to stop any of this if even he had wanted to try.

“You and me both,” Dean said but continued to kiss Billy, clearly not thinking much about the statement considering it simply wasn’t true. It would take more than someone’s pissed off uncle to bring them down. Dean had shown him that already.

Billy pulled away and glared at him with hungry eyes. “I...” he hesitated, burning up, his fingers toying with edge of Dean's pants- he couldn’t look Dean in the eyes when he spoke- he put his mouth close to his ear instead, his voice dropped into a whisper. _“I want you. I want you in me again. More...”_ his words were unbearably hot against Dean’s neck, “ _longer_ ,” Billy breathed against his skin. _“I want more. I want it so bad.”_

Dean tried to quiet the moan that escaped him just standing there, like a convict slipping out of jail. The guilt in Billy’s voice sounded like it was suffocating him, Dean could even hear it in the way he breathed. He understood it agonizingly well, because usually it was him. Usually he was the one that felt like that but with Billy it was different. Like he could somehow do right by himself by doing right by Billy. He grabbed Billy, his fingers sinking into his soft blond hair so he could kiss him harder this time, needing to strip away that fear he could feel in the other man to get to what was underneath. “It’s just us here, angel face,” he said. “Let me give you what you need.” 

It would have sounded terrible- so incredibly moronic- coming from anyone else, but for some reason it worked for Dean. Billy recollected Dean calling him ‘sweetheart’ the first night he’d met him and hated that it sent a frisson of pleasure through him. He wanted him to say it again but was gonna die before asking.

Billy's hands explored the other man’s jean clad hips again before Dean was dropping to his knees slowly in front of him. He ripped the towel, barely still on, away from Billy's hips to trail long dragging kisses over the front of Billy’s naked thighs.

“Jesus you weren’t kidding,” Billy said, seeing the long shallow gash the broken window had left across the back of Dean’s arm and shoulder. His hands traveled close to it, careful not to actually touch it.

Dean made some indication that he had heard Billy but he was concentrating and wouldn’t be deterred from the task at hand. The scent of coconut sunblock and chlorine water still clung to Billy’s skin in spite of having showered, so counterpoint to the dark musky leather notes Dean carried with him. Billy’s cock jutted out heavy, heat radiating off it, but Dean ignored it and brought his mouth to the hot weight of his balls, the skin smooth and shaved- somehow that was not surprising.

Billy let out a sound as Dean sucked at the taut skin, his hands clenched and unclenched at the sides of his hips before going to Dean’s hair. 

“ _Dean_...”

“I could eat you,” Dean growled, pushing him back. Billy dropped to the bed as Dean got off his knees. “Turn around.”

Billy did as requested. Dean’s mouth was at the back of his knees before he could stretch out, and then the back of his thighs, and it seemed to be getting hotter the higher it went. He only had his hands on the bed when he felt those lips in places it had never even occurred to him to fantasize about. One of Dean’s hands was splayed against his ass and his lips were teasing across his cheeks. Then Dean pushed him all the way down onto his stomach and Billy laid tense on the mattress letting Dean have the advantage of him, not sure what to expect. Dean didn’t leave him to speculate for long, and Billy nearly shouted when he felt the heat of Dean’s mouth between his cheeks. He had to fight to hold still as Dean teased him with his tongue, then ate him with a gusto that was _sending_ Billy. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t comprehend.

“Fuck...” he swore quietly at first, before the word grew louder and louder as he pushed back against Dean and dragged a pillow down to bury his face in and smother the sounds he was making.

Dean licked and mouthed his way down to his balls again and Billy let out a moan when Dean pushed Billy’s thigh up so he could suck the tip of Billy’s cock into his mouth where it was crushed down against the bed before returning to rim Billy within an inch of his life. 

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there as that tongue pressed across his tight hole, the tip of it stimulating the ring of muscle with precision and then covering him completely with his mouth. “Fuck that’s so wrong,” he said as his body said the opposite, arching up for more. “I didn’t realize you were this dirty.”

Dean only made an appreciative sound in reply before biting the swell of his ass cheek and moving up his back, mouthing soft sucking kissing up to his shoulder blade. His cock had soaked a fat spot of moisture into the comforter by the time Dean stopped his assault. He felt the other man’s cock trail like a firebrand across his skin and then he was gone. Billy looked out from the pillow which also was nearly damp from moaning open mouthed into it to see Dean taking something out of his jacket on the floor. When he came back and stood by the bed smiling and looking pleased with himself he had a bottle in his hand.

“If that’s not lube you’re fired,” Billy said sloppily. 

Dean climbed back onto the bed with a mischievous look. 

Billy heard the snap of the bottle cap and a moment later he felt Dean’s fingers, firmer than his tongue had been and the muscles in his legs tensed, he tried to lay still as strong hands rubbed the cleft of his ass and his hole -already wet from Dean's tongue. Dean worked him over good. There wasn’t a thought in his head anymore when Dean reached under him and slipped an oiled hand around his cock and pushed a finger into him with his other hand- a shallow gesture, one knuckle deep, just for a moment, but it left Billy gasping before it was replaced with the pressure of two fingers that didn’t quite penetrate him, and he was moaning again.

His ass was still a little sore from the other evening when he’d made Dean take him raw, or nearly raw, but that had been a shorter stint which hadn’t lasted nearly as long as this and Dean wasn’t even fucking him yet. 

When those two fingers finally did push through and slide into him Billy thought he was going to lose his damn mind. Part of him was still fighting against this, against the reality of it, of how much he _wanted_ this and how _long_ he had wanted it. He’d fought so god damn hard not to be the faggot son his dad accused him of being and what had ever been the point of any of that? If he was going to be punished for shit he hadn’t ever done, might as well just go ahead and do it- and enjoy the hell out of it.

He was practically relieved when Dean stopped slow fucking him with those fingers and drew them out. The pleasure was too slow and too intense at the same time, making him crazy. He rolled onto his back and trapped Dean firmly between his thighs when the man moved over him. His fingers raked across Dean’s shoulders and down his back. 

“I need you,” Dean said, voice deep and heavy with lust, his lips hot against Billy’s jaw and collarbones as he reached down and stroked himself.

“You need to be _inside_ me you mean?” Billy smirked.

The way Dean looked at him and said his name implied it was something more than that- Billy wished he’d stop doing that. It only made it more confusing. It made it _sting_. But he didn’t realize that his own face mirrored Dean’s expression and was giving even more away. 

His whole body felt loose and warm and ready but Dean tormented him still by squeezing his cock and covering so much of him with his large hands and pushing those fingers inside him again, pressing on the sensitive swell of his prostate as he kissed him hard and pressed his tongue into his mouth in a similar fashion. 

Billy choked wetly on one of his own sounds as a surge of arousal rocked through his whole body. “C’mon Dean,” he said when Dean pulled away from the kiss, “do it already. I know you want to.” 

Dean added another coating of lube to his cock before teasing it against Billy’s hole. Billy squeezed his thighs harder against Dean’s hips and locked eyes with him as he waited eagerly for that light contact of Dean’s cock against him became more. He made sure Dean had to watch as his pupils blew up when he finally pushed his cock, slippery and burning hot, inside him.

Dean slid all the way home and held it there, shuddering. “Oh god that’s...that’s...” he wasn’t able to say any more. He shut his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them Billy was giving him a heavy-lidded look.

“I lied,” Billy said, voice husky.

It took Dean a few seconds to register what he was saying.

“When I said I’d done it the other way before but not like that.”

“What? You mean about- about doing this before?”

“Yeah.”

Dean made one slow thrust into him, causing Billy to arch up with a little sigh. 

“Why? If I had know- ”

“You wouldn’t have _fucked_ me?” Billy growled. They both knew that wasn’t true. _“Fuck me.”_

Just for the lie Dean offered him a taste of denial and refused to move, his cock fully trapped inside him, until Billy started to push and fight him for it but even then Dean held him down harder, torturing him by not thrusting, using his full weight to pin him there. The feeling of Dean holding him- overpowering him nearly- did something to Billy he hadn’t realized could turn him on. Maybe it was just because he was already so aroused it didn’t matter what Dean did at that point, but things flashed in his mind with a violent intensity he couldn’t deny, things like this but rougher, words like _‘choke me.’_ He stayed quiet, panting hard. Dean shifted and that hardness inside him pressed against something that felt so good he seized up unable to move, his vision exploding with little spots like firecrackers.

When he was totally hopeless and no longer even trying to struggle Dean finally let up and let him tumble from that high wire he’d strung him up on, and drove the pleasure into him with one steady thrust after another, all carefully measured out just so that Billy could take it forever.

They tore the cheap quilted blanket off the bed eventually so they could fuck on the smoother sheets without the fabric riding up and Billy got onto his knees encouraging Dean to take him like that without asking. Dean didn’t need to be asked, he moved up behind him and pushed inside again earning a loud moan from Billy. Billy dropped from his elbows and let his shoulder take the weight; the side of his face pressed into the bed while he reached down between his thighs to jerk himself while Dean fucked him and gripped him tightly.

He had to bite his fist in order to dampen the sounds that were being forced out of him. Sex had never been this good- good or _different_ \- or some shit. He was too dizzy with it to compare but he knew that the sounds he was making weren’t something he did. This girly whimpering and moaning wasn’t familiar and fuck it was embarrassing but- shit he also didn’t care. 

At least an hour went by before Billy succumbed to climax. He was flushed all over, hot, and delirious. Dean had fucked him into the bed, face down in the mattress and pillows until he had wanted to cry, and then until he had finally actually cried in hard broken sobs of pleasure. He was a mess, red faced and practically drooling. Dean was somehow still composed and firm, if not a little shaky. Both of them were glistening with sweat now in the afternoon heat of the room. Billy’s fingers fumbled around his tortuously edged cock and tangled with Dean’s which were already there. He could barely tell whose hands were who’s in the slippery grasp. He came from the slow vice grip strokes. They had to be slow. They had edged this for so long, he would have come from just the penetration either way but Dean doubled down on the sensation by stroking him and pushing deep into him as Dean orgasmed. The orgasm wasn’t normal, Billy thought vaguely through some kind of heightened pleasure intoxicated insanity. It wasn’t just his average thing. He’d never felt it bursting that deep inside him like that, one long throb after another and tapering off like shock waves. He made some long ragged sound in his throat as Dean finally pulled out leaving him feeling exquisitely open and empty and like his nerves were short circuiting.

Every muscle in Dean’s body seemed to give out finally as he laid down with a light groan. His head hit the pillow hard. He stretched out all of his limbs before turning back toward Billy. He thought Billy might be drifting into that tempting stream of hot afternoon sleep but Billy finally rolled onto his back and brought his elbows up so that the arm nearest to Dean was over his eyes shielding him from the light.

Dean slid his hand over Billy’s stomach and ribs, caressing the soft skin. He kissed Billy’s tricep since it was close to him and intended to pull Billy closer, but Billy didn’t respond. At first he thought Billy had fallen asleep and then he realized the man was too still and tense to be asleep. “Hey,” Dean said softly and felt Billy’s heartbeat hammering under his palm in a way it shouldn't have been. “ _Hey_ ,” he said again, even softer but more insistent as he propped himself up on one arm. He tried to pull Billy's arm down but Billy shrugged him off and turned his head away from Dean.

“Billy?” Finally, he drew Billy closer to him with a firm insistence. Billy allowed him to pull his arm away from his face this time as Dean leaned over him but he refused to look at him. His eyes were wet and red and his chest rose and fell in a broken rhythm. 

_“Oh baby, no,”_ Dean crooned at him, seeing Billy upset and not understanding how it had happened. He slid his arm under Billy’s neck and kissed his fingers one by one until Billy finally stopped ignoring him. 

But Billy just shook his head. “Everything is so fucked up,” he said angrily, voice pinched with emotion. 

“Like what?”

“This!” -he flung his hand ambiguously at the ceiling- “And just- everything!”

“I thought you were having a good time,” Dean said cautiously.

Billy said nothing. He had been having a _great_ time. That was part of the problem. Right now he was wishing he wasn’t sober enough to acknowledge that fact.

“I mean,” Dean didn’t know what to say. He hadn't even had a woman get teary eyed on him at a moment like this. "It’s normal to be emotional after sex sometimes.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left his mouth. 

“No. It’s not!” Billy snapped. “Not for me. I’m _not_ emotional!”

Dean wasn’t sure if he meant he wasn’t emotional in general or he wasn’t emotional right now- either way it was rather obviously not true. “Anger is an emotional,” he said, allowing it to be a little snarky.

Billy sighed hard and sat up. 

Dean looked at him disheartened. This wasn’t exactly the fun post sex interaction he had been imagining.

“My ass feels like a New York subway tunnel so I’m gonna use the bathroom,” Billy said crudely.

Dean raised his eyebrows and blinked hard but said nothing. After a while the shower started going and Dean decided he would take his chances joining in. He stood against the bathroom wall and watched through the clear glass of the shower door as the water ran down the smooth planes of Billy's body. His hair was dark with the water in trailing tendrils almost down to his shoulder blades. He ignored Dean when Dean got in behind him. 

“ _Don’t_ ,” he said, voice sharp as a jagged piece of glass when Dean tried to put his hands on his waist. 

“What is your problem?” Dean finally snapped back at him. 

Billy said nothing.

Dean sighed quietly but left him alone, taking the small white bar of soap and washing himself. 

When Billy finally turned around, brushing hair away from his face he stared at Dean like it was Dean’s fault he was mad, but also Dean could see something in his eyes that looked incredibly sad.

“Do you mind?” Dean asked, indicating he wanted to get under the water to rinse. Billy moved out of his way so Dean could slide past him but he didn’t move enough and Dean had to touch him again. He put his arm around him and this time Billy didn’t tell him not to. He was looking at Dean’s face, his jawline that was sharper than Billy’s and his finely shaped nose and the spray of subtle freckles on his smooth skin that was paler than Billy’s and he leaned in towards his lips. “God dammit. Fuck you,” he said before he kissed him.

The water was on a setting cooler than their bodies. Dean’s mouth was burning hot. Billy’s skin felt overly sensitive to every touch now. Instead of feeling satiated by the merciless fucking they had done he wanted more.

“I wish I hadn’t met you,” he said softly between kissing Dean and biting his bottom lip carefully.

“Too bad I guess.”

”Yeah I guess so,” Billy said and there was something almost sweet in his voice suddenly.

Dean’s hands had found their way down Billy’s back to squeeze his ass. Billy's cock jumped up as fingers brushed against his hole, incredibly tender already, and suddenly he was horny for it all over. He grabbed the shampoo bottle and squeezed it onto Deans cock, stroking him until Dean was fully hard once more. He put his hands on the tiled wall and waited for Dean to give it to him again, knowing he would. This time it burned when Dean slid in but his muscles were still relaxed and there was no resistance. 

Dean let out a moan as he pressed up against him.

Billy reached for the wall but there was nowhere to get purchase on the flat slippery surface and he had to stand strong and keep his balance as Dean worked his cock into him over and over again. When his legs started to shake he let himself fall against the wall, his nipples went hard as his chest pressed to the cool tile. He let his cheek rest against the wall and stroked his cock. Dean reached around and cupped his balls, tugging them firmly but gently in a way that made his asshole clench around Dean’s cock. 

There was no girly moaning this time. No crying. “Yeah,” he ground out as Dean picked up the pace, fucking him harder or more gracelessly than before. “Yeah, fuck me. Fuck me- _harder_ ,” he commanded him.

Dean did exactly as he was told, only moaning low in his throat here and there. 

“Yeah, right there. Yeah that’s it...” he angled himself to make Dean’s cock hit the spot he wanted with relentless strokes and jerked himself faster.

 _“That’s it,”_ he echoed, goading Dean on. “Give me the rest of it.” His heart was thudding now, he was going to come hard, his cock throbbing with an extra raw ache from being used so soon again. "Give it to me. Come on, pretty boy.” He clenched as tight as he could on Dean’s cock. He could hear Dean’s breath coming fast. He was bracing himself with one hand on the wall, his other arm was like a vice around Billy’s waist. He heard Dean’s breath catch before Billy felt him go rigid as he drove into Billy harder. 

“Hell yeah,” Billy growled, forehead against the tile as he slipped his hand over the head of his cock and pushed himself over that edge while Dean was emptying the last drops of his already drained balls into him. Billy swore loudly, one hand splayed flat on the wall to hold himself. The deep grunt he let out as he came was entirely masculine and very much his norm. It made him feel a little better, superficially at least, and the orgasm was pretty good too, not like the long, uncontrollable, soul decimating orgasm he had just a bit ago... but hard and intense. 

When they were finally dried off and half dressed Billy sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Dean into his lap without warning, getting a raised eyebrow in response. 

“So what now?” He asked.

Dean was quiet and thoughtful. “I don’t know. You wanna show me around town?”

Billy laughed. “Not much to see.”

“That’s why you’ll be there.”

Both grinning, Billy toppled them to the side so he could lean over Dean and look down at his pretty face. His hair still a little damp, and his eyelashes clinging together, giving him a dewy innocent look. Dean bit his lip flirtatiously as Billy looked at him. 

“Keep the earring,” Billy said. “I like the way it looks on you.” Normally he wouldn’t have admitted to anyone looking better than he did, especially in his own things, but the idea of Dean wearing something of his- of claiming him in some tiny way like that- made him excited in a dangerous way.

“What am I supposed to give you in return?”

“That sweet ass, obviously.”

Dean split into a grin and shoved him playfully as he got up. He grabbed up his shirt and pulled it on.

Before they left Dean checked his pager. No word from Sam, which meant no new leads. Normally that would have been disappointing but right now he was ecstatic about it.

“Come on, let’s take a drive,” Billy said, grabbing Dean’s wrist and kissing him one last time while they still had the privacy to get away with it.

  
  



End file.
